The Navy Ball
by Jedicren
Summary: It took Callen a few minutes to notice what was happening. Years of training had taught him to always keep a watchful eye on his teammates, even off-duty. It was this over-developed sixth-sense that sent a quiet alert to his brain. "We have a problem," Callen said to his partner. Sam's gaze shifted to Kensi and Deeks. He sighed. "Where's Hetty?"
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Navy Ball

Chapter 1

Note: This is set a few months after the season 4 finale. A teaser chapter to a longer fic and my FIRST NCIS: LA fanfiction.

* * *

**The Navy Ball: Washington D.C.**

It took him a few minutes to notice what was happening. Callen had been discussing an old undercover mission with Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs when he caught them in his peripheral vision. Years of training had taught Callen to always keep a watchful eye on his teammates, even off-duty. It was this over-developed sixth-sense that sent a quiet alert to his brain. He stopped talking and turned so that he could better see his two junior agents, assessing the situation quickly.

Kensi and Deeks had left for the dance floor a few minutes ago and were now surrounded by fifty other couples in the well-lit ballroom. They were closer than they had been a few minutes ago, Callen noted. Kensi's right arm was draped lazily over her partner's shoulder, fingers softly stroking the back of his neck. Deeks held her left hand with his right and as they turned, Callen was relieved to note that Deeks' other hand was in a satisfactory position on Kensi's lower back. He reminded himself that they were just dancing, which was completely acceptable to do at a Navy Ball. So why did he feel like he was intruding on an intimate moment? He watched them for another minute, trying to pinpoint what was bothering him about the situation. Deeks, for his part, was trailing light circles on Kensi's wrist with his thumb and talking softly into her ear. Callen was too far away to read his lips, but Kensi's body language suggested it wasn't a normal conversation that ended with a Deeks-esque joke. When he stopped talking, Callen saw her pull back slightly and the two made eye contact, freezing on the dance floor.

Callen felt the energy between them shift. _Shit,_ he thought. He knew this had been coming, hadn't he? He had watched them over the past few years-bantering and joking, the endless flirting leading nowhere. Even the last few intense months had brought only minute changes, hardly noticeable to an untrained eye. But he had noticed. The pair would suddenly stop talking when he entered the room and Deeks' recent undercover assignment with Monica had seemed to dig at Kensi. Then there was the last case… the one that had landed Deeks in the hospital. He shuddered.

Turning in his chair, he lightly tapped his partner's back.

Sam Hanna, who had been in deep conversation with his wife, Michelle, looked at Callen over his shoulder, eyes raised.

"We have a problem," Callen said simply. He nodded in Kensi and Deeks direction.

Sam followed his gaze. "Shit," he said, echoing his partner's earlier thought. "Where's Hetty?"

The two agents surveyed the room, searching for their operations director.

Callen found her first. She and Director Vance were at the far end of the ballroom, having an animated discussion. "There," he said, pointing.

"Don't point, G!" Sam pulled his arm down. From across the room, Hetty stopped talking, and turned to look at the two agents, a questioning look etched upon her features.

They both waved, smiling innocently.

"How does she do that?" Callen asked after she turned away.

"I don't know, but you can bet it'll take her another few seconds to realize that Kensi and Deeks are about to do the horizontal tango in front of two hundred servicemen," Sam replied.

"And women," Michelle added, leaning across Sam.

"You know you can't stop them," Gibbs said, speaking for the first time in a few minutes. "You, of all people, should know that." He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, an amused expression on his face.

Next to him, Gibbs' senior field agent looked stunned. "Can't stop them?" Tony asked, an incredulous look plastered on his face.

Callen turned and smirked at Gibbs, knowing full well what he was referring to. "But I _can_ stop them from doing it in front of Hetty," he said.

"What does he mean, _you should know_?" Sam asked. "I apparently need to spend more times with Gibbs. It appears that he knows some things that I don't."

Callen rolled his eyes. "We need to instigate operation Arctic Storm, Sam."

Sam nodded solemnly. "You take Hetty, I'll separate the lovebirds." He rose from his chair.

Callen shook his head, "Why do I have to take Hetty?"

Sam was halfway around the table already, headed in the direction of the dance floor. Without looking back, he laughed, "Cuz this was your dumb idea, G."

Callen swallowed the last of his beer and took a deep breath before steeling himself. He felt like he was marching to his death as he crossed the room.

"Something wrong, Mr. Callen?" Hetty asked, a stony expression on her face.

* * *

I hope you enjoyed; please review!


	2. Chapter 2

The Navy Ball

Chapter 2

* * *

**Los Angeles, California**

**Two weeks prior**

* * *

It always felt real.

_The screaming pierced his ears, ricocheting through his brain like a shotgun. Much later, he realized the ear-shattering noise belonged to him. The pain in his back molar was blinding, white hot, enveloping his brain. He couldn't breathe, couldn't move. Just when the stars were ascending and darkness was appearing in his periphery, the drill stopped. Deeks heard a voice from far away ask the same question for the fourth time._

"_Is Quinn an agent?"_

_He moaned, which was not the answer Sidorov was looking for, apparently. Seconds later he felt his jaw crack as one of the men pistol-whipped him across the face. He tried to breathe through his nose, but choked on his own blood. Turning his head toward the two men in front of him, he got a quick glimpse of Sam through the door. The look on his face was an unfamiliar one to Deeks. Terror. He was terrified that Deeks would break and Michelle would die. _

_He steeled himself and was able to utter two words through the mouth guard. "Who's Quinn?" He heard the drill start again and seconds later, so did the pain._

It was the screaming that always woke him up. Deeks sat bolt upright in bed, breathing heavy, his sheets soaked with sweat. Morty, always a true friend, hovered above him, his furry face inches away. Deeks scratched his ears lightly and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The alarm clock read 12:00a.m.

He grabbed a yogurt out of the refrigerator, tore the top off, and leaned against the counter. Next to him was a pile of LAPD paperwork from a recent undercover assignment and his cell phone. He picked the phone up and scrolled through his contacts slowly.

_Blye, K._

_How long had it been since he had heard her voice? _

He shut the phone and tossed it unceremoniously onto the counter. After he had gotten out of the hospital, his injuries had prevented him from returning to the field. The doctors had estimated the cast would stay on for a month and it would take about six weeks for his ribs to heal. Since then, he had been stuck at the LAPD office, pushing papers and creating undercover identities for his old teammates. It was like his own personal hell.

He lifted a spoonful of vanilla yogurt into his mouth, catching site of his partner's name scribbled hastily on the side of his cast.

"_So you won't forget me while you're gone," she had said with a smile._

Two days later, while at work, he realized that she had also drawn a unicorn on the underside, knowing full well that he couldn't see it. The mythical creature had first been noticed by a fellow LAPD officer. The man wasted no time pointing it out to everyone else in the office.

Deeks: 0, Kensi: 1.

* * *

She could never get to him fast enough.

_The abandoned building was on the north side of the city, two miles from where Sidorov had been holding Michelle. Kensi had the gas pedal to the floor on the expressway, weaving in and out of traffic. Callen was a mile ahead of her and _still_ five minutes out._

_She was gunning it through a residential area when she heard LAPD and CIA announce that they had the building surrounded. _

We aren't going to make it, _she thought._

_A few minutes later, Callen was on scene directing officers into the building. She said a quick prayer as she rounded a corner at 65mph. Next to her, Michelle was hanging on to what Deeks referred to as the "oh shit" bar and talking to Sidorov on one of the Russian women's recovered phones._

_If Michelle could distract him long enough, he might not see them coming._

_Kensi was still a ways down the street when the gunfire started. She flinched as it pierced her eardrums. As she brought the car to a screeching halt at the end of the road, a stream of LAPD officers entered the building from the west._

"_KENS!" came Callen's voice. He sounded out of breath. "If you can hear me, call an ambulance."_

_Her breath caught in her throat. As she dialed 911, she raced toward the building. Speaking quickly to the dispatcher, she gave the location of the warehouse and added that someone on scene would direct the rig when it arrived._

_A moment later, she saw him._

_Her partner was being carried out of the building by Callen and an LAPD officer, one arm slung over each shoulder, feet dragging behind him. Behind them limped Sam Hanna. Michelle, a few yards back, ran directly into Sam's arms. _

"_Callen!" Kensi shouted. "The ambulance is on the way."_

_Callen laid Deeks down on a nearby stretcher. Kensi went immediately to his side and surveyed the damage; his face was swollen, blood caked on his chin and shirt. As she knelt next to him, she noticed his breathing was unsteady and his chest was rising unequally. _

"_Oh God," she whispered. "Sam?"_

_Sam was already kneeling next to her. "One of Sidorov's men got him in the ribs with a chair. I think his arm may be broken too." Sam leaned over and lifted Deeks' head and torso off the stretcher, leaning him against his chest. His breathing improved slightly. "Deeks."_

_No answer. His eyes were closed, head resting on Sam._

"_Deeks!" Sam said louder. "I swear to God if you live, I'll never make fun of your hair again."_

_Deeks eyes fluttered open momentarily. His mouth was set in a steely line and he took a few short breaths through his nose. "Swear," he said._

_Sam chuckled. "I swear."_

_Kensi clasped her partner's hand and felt his fingers wrap around hers lightly. "The ambulance will be here soon," she whispered. "Just hold on."_

"Kens!"

_She turned around, searching for the source of the voice, but nobody in the near vicinity seemed to be calling her._

"Kens!"

Callen's voice, louder this time, penetrated her eardrums and snatched her away from her injured partner, lying helpless in Sam's arms.

Her head shot off the desk, papers flying in every direction. "Huh. Yeah?" she said, looking blearily at Callen, standing over her.

"Tired?" he asked, a sarcastic note creeping into his voice.

She huffed and wrinkled her nose in denial. "No," she lied, adding a short laugh for emphasis.

He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

She let out a short sigh and dropped her head back on the desk. "It's like…" she looked at her wristwatch, "zero dark thirty, Callen."

"Hetty wants you to follow up with the bartender from that club on 7th." He tossed a set of keys next to her on the desk. "Sam and I will meet you at the boatshed in an hour to question Lt. Snyder." He turned to leave. "Oh, and better wake up Sleeping Beauty," he added, motioning to her replacement partner, fast asleep in Deeks' chair.

Kensi grabbed the keys and pushed herself into a standing position, yawning.

"And Kens?"

She turned back toward Callen, waiting.

"Make sure Dorneget wipes the drool off his chin before Hetty sees him."

* * *

On any normal day, the combination of Deeks' hectic schedule and his need for REM sleep would have prevented him from socializing with his surfing buddies. For the past few weeks, however, he'd considered joining them on a number of occasions. This should have been a red flag in and of itself; he had never really been much of a drinker, his father's alcoholism had destroyed any desire to indulge on a regular basis. That being said, at exactly 12:15, he left the house to join his comrades in their scheduled debauchery.

Truthfully, he had been spiraling downward for the last few weeks, a trajectory that he had done nothing to stop. The injury-imposed limitations were slowly driving him mad. No surfing, no fieldwork, and no strenuous exercise were compounded by the absence of Kensi and being stuck in an office all day.

His cast had been removed that morning and the appearance of his ridiculous skinny wrist and arm made his mood sour even more. His doctor was impressed with how his ribs were healing, and Deeks had told a little white lie about the pain he was experiencing. After all, it only really hurt when he took a deep breath… or coughed… or moved. He had been self-medicating with Land Shark in the evenings. Although his brain told him that this petulant cycle needed to stop, the sudden absence of his real life had become unbearable.

As he pulled up to the bar, he felt his mood lift slightly.

* * *

**Joe's Saloon and Bathhouse: 01:00**

She saw him on the way out.

Kensi had finished interviewing the bartender at Joe's Saloon and Bathhouse, and was making her way through the crowd when she turned around to ensure Dorneget was behind her. His mop of unruly blonde hair was just visible over the mob of people waiting for drinks by the bar, and she had to crane her neck to see him. The immediate flutter of her heart was cut short, however, by his actions over the next seven seconds.

She watched as he salted the neck of a leggy blonde, licked it slowly off, threw back a tequila shot (egged on by a group of what appeared to be frenzied douche bags), and grabbed a lime wedge out of the woman's waiting teeth.

The crowd cheered and Kensi fought the urge to cross the room and kick him in the balls.

"Agent Blye?"

She nodded to her partner, unblinking eyes still fixed on Deeks. "Thought I saw someone I knew," she said.

As she turned toward the door, he saw her.

His eyes widened, jaw hung open. He had been made.

She continued forward without pausing and pushed the door of the club open roughly, hurrying toward the car. The anger was bubbling up like lava and her stomach was in knots. She didn't even bother lying to herself about why she was so upset.

He had kissed herand a month later, he was spending his days licking the necks of scantily clad beach floozies and doing God knows what else.

"Kensi!"

She ignored him.

"Kens! Stop!"

She yanked open the driver's side door.

He jogged over, holding his rib cage and taking short breaths. He grabbed the car door and bent forward slightly, trying to catch his breath. She noticed that his cast had been removed and most of the bruising to his face and neck was now gone.

"Hey," he said, still splinting his ribs with a hand.

She took a breath through her nose and gritted her teeth. A minute went by before she spoke. "This is Special Agent Dorneget," she said. "He's filling in while my _partner_ is away."

Deeks saluted the man standing on the other side of the car before turning back to Kensi. "So, how _is_ your partner doing?" he asked pointedly. "You guys were close, right?"

She narrowed her eyes and clamped her mouth shut.

Deeks let the door go and took a few steps backward. "Close, like… you know, peanut butter and jelly… vodka and cranberry juice—which is incidentally the only way you'll get me to drink cranberry juice. I don't care if it's good for your kidneys, the stuff is nasty." He shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged, "maybe you should give him a call. I'll bet he's having a really hard with this whole _injury_ thing."

He had a point, and she knew it.

Kensi didn't say anything to him. She just shut the door and started the car without making eye contact. Peeling away from the curb, she watched as Deeks' form got smaller and smaller in the rear-view mirror until disappearing from site. As she drove, she let her mind wander to the place she'd been avoiding for weeks. The kiss was the reason they hadn't seen one another in three weeks. It was the reason they hadn't talked in two weeks and it was the reason she wasn't going to pick up the phone and call him right now. She had _dared_ him to say something he actually meant and he had, without using any words, _dared_ her to do the same.

When they arrived at the boatshed, she filled Callen in on the details of her conversation with the bartender and then watched the tail end of Sam's interrogation in silence.

"Something wrong?" Callen asked, raising an eyebrow in her direction. "You look like someone just ran over your puppy."

She shook her head. "No, actually… I think I must have eaten some bad sushi at lunch…" She clutched her stomach for effect and added, "Oh yeah—it's really… bad."

Callen looked skeptical.

"Serves me right for ordering California rolls from a place called Al's Pancake World, right?" She forced out a laugh and grabbed her bag off the table. "So… I'll see you tomorrow, then."

As the self-proclaimed creators of the "sushi excuse," she knew Sam and Callen's suspicions would be immediately aroused, but failed to care. She needed to clear her head and that couldn't happen unless she got away from NCIS for a few minutes, where everything reminded her of Marty Deeks.

* * *

Note: Thanks for all the positive reviews! This chapter had a few flashbacks so that the story made sense and could move forward. I hope everyone is enjoying reading as much as I am enjoying telling this story.


	3. Chapter 3

The Navy Ball

Chapter 3

* * *

**The Navy Ball: Washington D.C.**

"Dance with me."

It was more a statement than a question.

Kensi met his eyes momentarily before turning back around and leaning her elbows on the bar. "No."

"That really wasn't the answer I was looking for," Deeks replied. He took the wine glass out of Kensi's hand before she could take another sip, setting it carefully down on the mahogany bar.

"Deeks," she said, shaking her head, "it's not a good idea."

"The Lady doth protest too much, methinks." He took her hand and started moving backward.

She rolled her eyes, letting herself be led forward toward the dance floor. "Shakespeare, really?"

He grinned, "I'm full of surprises."

They reached the dance floor and Deeks turned to face her. He placed his hand on her lower back and pulled her slowly toward him. Kensi wrapped her arm, somewhat reluctantly, around his neck.

The band was playing softly, and although the song sounded familiar, Deeks couldn't place it. It felt good to have Kensi in his arms, despite her rigid posture and inability to allow him to lead.

"I'm sorry, you know," he said after a few seconds.

Kensi pulled back and looked at him, her eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"Come on, don't make me say it."

Recognition dawned on her face. She smirked. "For licking the two-bit hussy at the bar?"

He tried to look offended. "Two-bit hussy has a name, Kens."

She raised her eyebrows. "And what _was_ her name, Detective Deeks?"

He cleared his throat. "Reba."

Kensi snorted, "You totally just made that up."

"I did not!" he argued. "Her name was Reba Gustafsun from Lincoln, Nebraska and she likes ancient archeology and long walks on the beach."

"Her name is Bambi McBimbo from you're-a-big-liar," she retorted quickly.

Deeks was momentarily quiet. "Okay, so I have no idea what her name was," he admitted, shaking his head in defeat.

"Thought so," she said smugly.

They danced for another minute in silence. Deeks noticed that Kensi's body relaxed slightly as they swayed to the music. He took the opportunity to interlace his fingers with hers, stroking the side of her wrist with his thumb. She responded by resting her chin on his shoulder and he felt a gentle sigh escape her lips. They stayed like that for a little while. It was the first time that she seemed comfortable in his arms. They weren't chasing or being chased, they weren't being shot at or shooting anyone. He let go, allowing everyone else in the room to disappear. It was just the two of them, swaying to the music, enjoying the fleeting moment.

"I'm sorry too, Deeks," she whispered suddenly.

He shook his head. "For _what_?"

"Not calling… not texting… not asking how you were doing…."

"Not kissing me back." The statement slipped out without any forethought. As the words hovered between them, the veil of avoidance they'd been living under evaporated.

She drew back slightly and stopped moving. Her eyes searched his. "You—you almost _died_."

He lifted a hand to her face and brushed a wisp of hair out of her eyes. "I know," he said softly. He was afraid to blink, afraid that if he broke eye contact, he'd lose his nerve.

Kensi took a shaky breath. "And then you were in the ICU and I was…"

"Scared," he finished for her.

She nodded slowly. Her fingers clasped his tighter. "I _can't_ lose you, Deeks."

He closed his eyes momentarily and exhaled. He hadn't noticed they had stopped dancing. The song had changed. "I need you to say something you _really_ mean, Kensi," he said finally.

She looked at him again, her eyes unreadable, her face soft. "I…"

"Can I cut in?" a voice asked.

Deeks hadn't noticed Sam's approach. He and Kensi separated, severing the connection between their bodies. She looked at the floor, as if she had been caught doing something wrong. He cleared his throat. "Your timing is impeccable, Sam," he said, a sarcastic edge creeping into his voice.

Kensi recovered quickly and took Sam's outstretched hand in her own. "Of course you can," she said, answering Sam's question. "Unless, of course, you meant you wanted to dance with Deeks."

Sam chuckled and pulled her closer, "You're just not my type, Deeks."

Deeks forced a smile, "too good-looking, I would assume." He shoved his hands into his pockets and left the dance floor, not waiting for Sam's rebuttal. Making a beeline for the table, he picked his beer up and took a swig. It was warm.

"So…"

Deeks looked up to find Eric watching him. He rolled his eyes and finished his warm beverage. "I don't want to talk about it," he announced to the table. Eric, Nell, Michelle, and two agents from the D.C. office that Deeks had briefly been introduced to were all staring at him silently.

Nell shook her head and smacked Eric on the arm before he had a chance to open his mouth again. "Not going to say anything," she said.

Deeks reached toward the center of the table and pulled the wine bottle out of the ice bucket. He poured a glass and then jammed the cork back into the opening before setting it beside the wine glass. Grabbing his jacket off the chair, he turned to Eric once again. "If anyone asks, I went to bed."

Eric nodded solemnly. "Copy that."

Deeks glanced at his glass of wine before lifting the wine bottle off the table and walking out of the ballroom.

From her place on the dance floor, Kensi watched him go.

* * *

Note: After all the fantastic reviews and 81 (to date) follows, I decided to post this mini-chapter early. A huge thanks to everyone for all the supportive comments. I think you are going to love the next few chapters!


	4. Chapter 4

The Navy Ball

Chapter 4

* * *

**Los Angeles, CA **

**Two weeks prior**

* * *

**The boatshed**

Callen watched Kensi cross the room and leave the boathouse, the door banging closed behind her. Sam, just exiting the interrogation room, stopped short when he saw the expression on his partner's face.

"What?" he asked, turning to see what Callen was looking at. "Kensi leave?"

Callen knit his brow together and shook his head, "bad sushi," he said.

Sam recoiled. "Oh no, she didn't."

"She did," Callen responded.

"She knows that…"

"We invented the bad sushi excuse?" Callen finished, nodding. "That she does."

"Hey, Dorneget?" Sam called.

The two men heard a crash. A few seconds later, their temporary agent, who had been working in an adjacent room, came rushing through the door. Callen noticed that he had a phone cord wrapped around his foot, and was dragging it as he walked.

"Better hang that up,' Callen said, pointing at Dorneget's leg.

"Yeah, sorry," the man said, fumbling to untangle himself.

"Agent Dorneget!" Sam said gruffly after a second.

"Yes, sir?" he set the phone down on the table.

"What'd Agent Blye have for lunch this afternoon?"

"Umm," he looked from one agent to another.

"This isn't a trick question, Dorneget," Sam said.

"Burrito, extra sour cream… and two moon pies, but… I don't think I'm supposed to know about those."

Callen shot him a questioning look.

"She shoved the wrappers under the driver's side seat."

Sam nodded. "So no sushi, then?"

Dorneget looked confused. "Is… is this a trick question, Agent Hanna?"

Sam opened his mouth, but Callen cut him off.

"Did anything happen while the two of you were out earlier?"

Dorneget thought about it for a minute. "There was a drunk guy… outside of Joe's… should I be telling you guys this?"

"Absolutely," Callen replied. "What was the drunk guy's name?"

He shrugged, "She didn't introduce me."

"How'd you know he was drunk?" Sam asked.

"I guess I don't, but I saw him doing shots of tequila when we walked in," he said. "He's tall, wavy blond hair."

Sam raised his eyebrows, "Lemme guess, ruggedly handsome?" He shot a look in Callen's direction and the two men nodded.

"Deeks," Callen affirmed. He ran his hand along his unshaved jaw, thinking. "Anything else?"

"Not really," Dorneget said, shrugging again. "They talked about her partner. The guy said she should call him."

Callen crossed his arms and turned to look at Sam. "You talk to Deeks lately?"

Sam shook his head.

"You wanna flip for it?" Callen pulled a quarter out of his pocket and tossed it in the air, a menacing look on his face.

Sam caught the coin in the air. "No, I'll pay him a little visit tomorrow."

"You worried you'll lose?" Callen asked, a smirk on his face.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Worried you'll cheat," he said, tossing the quarter back to his partner.

"Hey, now!" Callen said, shoving it back in his pocket, "I resent that." He grabbed his jacket off his chair.

"But you don't deny it." Sam unlocked his gun from the safe and shoved it into it's holster.

The two men crossed the room, about to leave the boatshed, when Dorneget stopped them.

"Um… Agent Callen?"

"Yeah?" Callen had his hand on the doorknob.

"What I do with the guy in the interrogation room?"

Sam and Callen exchanged a glance.

"Let him go," Sam answered. "Guy doesn't know crap."

* * *

**Leo Carrillo State Beach**

The sunrise was spectacular over the ocean. Deeks sat on his surf board, leaning back, feet crossed at the ankles, watching the dark sky turning magnificent shades of orange. He guessed it was around 06:00. After his discussion (argument?) with his partner, he hadn't really felt like going home. Instead, he picked up a sixer of Land Shark and headed to the place that always made him feel calm. Today, however, he only felt irritation (and a severe hangover).

The encounter with Kensi had left him feeling worse than he had yesterday; if he didn't feel so badly about what happened, he would have found the predicament at the bar to be mildly amusing. Any other day, she'd have caught him sulking at home, not boozing it up at Joe's. Subsequently, he wouldn't be sitting alone on the beach contemplating the future of their partnership at six in the morning. The series of events that had led to this point were ridiculous, as far as he was concerned. She had _told_ him to say something he really meant, so that's what he had done… well… kinda.

If he was being honest with himself, he would admit that kissing her was probably not what she had in mind. Avoiding a discussion about their brief lip-lock was easy to do when the discussion about _what it really means_ never took place. He had gone over it a million times in his head, wondering if she said those words without having any idea how he felt. His train of thought, however, was interrupted by heavy footsteps in the sand behind him. He waited a few seconds while Sam Hanna situated himself beside him.

"How'd you find me?" he asked.

"Eric," Sam answered. "Kinda early for surfing."

Deeks leaned back on his elbows. "Surfing doesn't goad well with rib fractures."

"Kinda early for drinking," he followed up, motioning to the empty beer bottles sticking out of the sand to Deeks' left.

Deeks shot him a half-smile, "Drinking _does_ help the rib fractures."

Sam nodded and leaned forward, clasping his hands around his knees.

They sat in silence for a few seconds before Deeks spoke again. "Kensi send you out here to check on me?" he asked, squinting into the rising sun.

Sam shook his head. "What's her beef with you?"

Deeks shrugged. "I wouldn't call it beef necessarily… chicken is a more accurate comparison."

Sam looked at him, waiting for further explanation.

Deeks sat up and grabbed his sunglasses, pushing them on his face. "Kensi is having some issues with communication. Nothing a life-time of therapy won't fix." He looked at Sam, searching for a way out of the conversation. "Dude, you have that shirt in like… seventeen colors," he said, changing the subject, "Don't you think a nice Hawaiian print would be more appropriate for the beach?"

Sam chuckled, "Evading the topic; a technique used by someone with something to hide."

"Or by someone that isn't in the mood to talk about it," he responded, turning back to face the ocean.

Sam was quiet for another minute. "Look, I know we're not really… talkers."

"You're not really a talker." Deeks grabbed an empty beer bottle and spun it in his hands. "I think we've established that I _am_ a talker, and it bugs the hell out of you."

Sam waved a hand in the air. "Fine. I just wanted to say that I was wrong."

Deeks feigned surprise. "Huh?"

Sam's face was serious. "My wife is alive because of you."

Deeks shook his head. "Michelle is alive because she's a highly-trained CIA operative."

"And because you didn't break." Sam took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "I thought you would sing like a canary as soon as that drill hit you."

Deeks visibly shuddered.

"But I was wrong about you."

Deeks nodded and squinted behind his glasses. "So… is this where we hug it out?"

Sam snorted. "Not really a hugger."

"Not a hugger… not a talker."

Sam rose to his feet and dusted off his pant legs. "How's it going at the LAPD office?"

Deeks stared forward, watching the waves hit the shore. "About as well as could be expected," he answered.

Sam clapped him on the back and started toward his car. "We miss you too, Deeks."

* * *

When he was out of earshot of the liaison officer, Sam dialed Hetty's number.

"Mr. Hanna, how can I help you?"

"We need to get Deeks back in the office," he said simply.

"You know I have very little control over what the LAPD director does with him while he's off on injury," she replied with an even tone.

"Hetty," he said, looking back to where Deeks sat in the sand, "he's drowning. We need to pull him out." He used the comparison purposefully.

There was a pause before she spoke again. "I'll see what I can do, Mr. Hanna."

Sam shut the phone. It was out of his hands now.

* * *

**Bullpen: One week later**

"So, Lt. Snyder was murdered six months ago."

Kensi, who had been rifling through her bottom desk drawer, stopped and looked at Callen. "Huh?" she said, a confused look on her face. "So who was.…"

"The guy we interrogated in the boatshed?" Callen sank into his desk chair. "Ryan Michael Hershman. He killed Snyder and assumed his identity."

"The body we found in Snyder's backyard," Sam added, leaning against a post, "was Snyder. They just identified him."

"And Ryan Hershman has just been apprehended by LAPD," Hetty said, coming around the corner, a cup of steaming tea in her hands. "Three counts of murder and one for assault with a deadly weapon."

"He's going away for a while," Callen said. He switched off his computer and leaned back in his chair.

"As are we, Mr. Callen."

Kensi rose up off the floor and sat on the edge of her desk, arms crossed. "What do you mean, _going away_?"

"We have been invited to the Navy-Marine Corps Ball," she answered. "SECNAV will be awarding us for our part in recovering the stolen nuclear weapons."

"Awarding us?" Sam looked skeptical.

"When has SECNAV ever cared to acknowledge us?" Callen added.

"The short answer, Mr. Callen, is that they haven't." Hetty took another sip of her tea.

"So why now?" Kensi asked.

"Because, Miss Blye," Hetty answered, "What you did… was a _very_ big deal."

"And I take it we're going," Callen said, more a statement than a question.

"Oh, we're going," Hetty said, turning away from the agents, "Or the director will have my head." She walked a few steps and then stopped again and turned back around. "Our flight leaves tomorrow morning at 07:00. You'll find your boarding passes in your inboxes." She pointed a finger at each of them. "I expect everyone to be on time."

* * *

**LAX 06:55**

Kensi walked swiftly through the airport, her suitcase rolling easily behind her. Bleary-eyed, she sipped her coffee as she walked. Nearing the specified gate, she saw the rest of the team, with the addition of Sam's wife, gathered already.

Hetty was impatiently checking her watch. "Cutting it close, Miss Blye," she said, eyebrows raised. Seeing Kensi check her watch, she added, "Oh, don't worry, you're not the last to arrive."

Kensi came to a stop next to Michelle and looked around. "Who are we missing?" she asked.

"Deeks!" Callen said, a surprised expression on his face.

Kensi turned around, and sure enough, their LAPD liaison officer was jogging toward them, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

When he reached them, he dropped his bag on the ground. The other members of the team greeted him happily, giving him hugs and handshakes all around. Kensi noticed that he was only slightly out of breath after the jog through the airport. His rib fractures must almost be healed, she thought.

"Mr. Deeks' director was kind enough to let us have him back a few weeks early," she explained, speaking directly to Kensi.

She tried not to feel awkward as her partner finished saying hello to the others and turned to her.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey."

He pulled her into a hug without a second of hesitation. She smelled seawater and lemongrass shampoo.

"I missed you," he said softly into her ear before pulling back. He looked at her face, searching. "You still mad?"

She saw Hetty watching them over his shoulder. "No," she lied, adding a shoulder jab for emphasis and getting mild satisfaction out of his flinch. "Just glad you're here."

* * *

Note: Thanks for the reviews and the follows! I love the response I am getting for this. For all of you who are worried that they'll never get those words out, have a little faith! xoxo


	5. Chapter 5

The Navy Ball

Chapter 3

* * *

**The Navy-Marine Corps Ball; Washington D.C.**

Callen approached Director Vance and Hetty from the west, trying to minimize the likelihood that either of them would suddenly turn toward the dance floor without warning.

"Something wrong, Mr. Callen?" Hetty asked before Callen had even announced his presence.

_How _does _she do that?_

"Special Agent Callen," Vance interjected, sticking his hand out, "Congratulations on the award, you deserve it."

Callen shook the director's hand, "Thank you, sir," he said, "but I have to give most of the credit to my team."

Vance chuckled, "I see what you mean, Henrietta." He patted Callen on the shoulder. "You're too modest. I read the report; you _and_ your team did this country a great service." He looked around briefly and straightened his tie, before adding, "Now, if you'll both excuse me, I have to continue schmoozing my bosses."

Callen snorted and watched him approach the Secretary of the Navy with open arms and a big smile. "Glad that's not part of my job," he said to Hetty. Turning toward the bar, he ordered a beer and sat down on one of the empty stools. He hoped that he could keep Hetty from turning to face the dance floor for another few seconds while Sam finished separating Kensi and Deeks. Years of working with her had taught him not to use the obvious methods of distraction—she was too smart for that. He didn't even dare a look back to see if Sam had completed his portion of the operation.

To his relief, Hetty took a seat at the bar. "So, Mr. Callen," she said, "I am assuming that you need something from me?"

He didn't miss a beat, "Remember back in Moscow, when I was confined to that safe house for…"

"Two months."

He nodded, taking a short sip of his beer, "And I called you from the Sat-Phone after six weeks?"

She raised her eyebrows, "Yes, Mr. Callen, I do recall that particular call," she said. "Although, I am still not sure how you got a hold of a phone in the first place."

He waved his hand, "Not important," he said, glossing over that particular detail, "I told you that I was under house arrest while the others on my team investigated an intelligence leak."

She nodded, tapping her fingers lightly against the bar.

"And you quoted a verse from Carmina Burana…"

"Rex sedet in vertice—caveat ruinam!" she answered without missing a beat.

"Yeah, that one."

"Is there a reason you are bringing this up now, Mr. Callen?" She leaned against the back of her barstool and crossed her arms.

"Gibbs and I were discussing the undercover assignment—he was the one that discovered the mole and cleared my name… and I couldn't remember the translation."

"The king sits in majesty—but let him beware his downfall."

Callen nodded, "right."

Hetty looked at him for a few seconds before taking a breath and setting her hands in her lap.

_Crap,_ Callen thought.

"Mr. Callen," she started.

He kept his face even and raised his eyebrows innocently.

"I do enjoy reminiscing with you about our shared history."

"Uh-huh."

"In fact, this reminds me of a similar incident that happened recently," she said.

"It does, does it?" He leaned back against his chair and crossed his arms, mimicking her earlier movement.

"Yes, I seem to remember you reciting the entire poem to Mr. Hanna during an undercover assignment."

_Crap._ He hadn't realized she had been listening to the stakeout transmission.

She leaned forward and looked directly into his eyes. "In Latin," she added, taking a sip of the hot tea sitting in front of her. He hadn't even noticed she had ordered anything.

_She's good._

"So, are you going to tell me what this is really about, or am I going to guess?"

_Crap._ Before he could stop himself, his eyes flicked to the dance floor momentarily, where Kensi and Sam were now dancing, and then to Deeks, across the room.

Hetty kept her face even. "I see. How very… noble of you, Mr. Callen." She stirred her tea with the teabag and then wrapped the string around her spoon and set it beside the saucer.

He shook his head, "I'm not sure what you're referring to."

She hid a smile. "You make the assumption that I have no idea what goes on between my own agents."

He furrowed his brow and tried to read the expression on her face. "So… you either _know_ that something is going on or you know that I know and are trying to get me to tell you by making me think you already know."

She kept her expression neutral, lips pursed.

Callen studied her, but it was useless. She was much better at this game than he.

After a minute of silence, Hetty spoke. "I care very much about this team, Mr. Callen, and very much about keeping my agents alive."

He nodded, not quite following.

"Sometimes, training and formal education are not enough," she continued, speaking slowly, as if she was choosing her words carefully. "My best example of this is your relationship with Agent Hanna. You became a better NCIS agent when you let him in. You no longer operate alone, and together, the two of you are stronger."

Callen's eyes widened as he realized what she was saying. "You had been watching Deeks for a long time before he joined us," he said. "You chose him for her."

After a few seconds, she nodded.

"You've wanted this all along."

"Wanted? No." She turned her chair around and surveyed the crowd. "I always hope that my agents are fulfilled in both their careers and personal lives."

From across the room, Callen watched Deeks leave the ballroom with what appeared to be an entire bottle of wine. He searched for Sam and Kensi, finally finding them, Kensi's eyes staring at the place where Deeks had just disappeared.

"What about the team?" Callen asked, watching Kensi. "Are you worried it will interfere with their jobs?"

Hetty shrugged. "If I were, do you think I would allow this to continue?"

Callen chuckled and shook his head. "No, I suppose you wouldn't."

* * *

Note: The chapter that started it all. I've been working on it for a few weeks and hope that everyone enjoys this little tidbit between Callen and Hetty. Reviews = Love!


	6. Chapter 6

**The Navy Ball**

**Chapter 6**

* * *

**Los Angeles, CA**

**LAX, 07:30**

The Secretary of the Navy had allowed the NCIS team use of his personal jet for the flight from L.A. to D.C. Kensi, who was used to flying coach (or worse), adjusted her seat to a steep recline and accepted a soda from the flight attendant, sipping it happily. The cabin was large, equipped with flat-screens and enough computer technology for Eric and Nell to run the office from the air if they wanted (they didn't). She sipped her drink and watched as her partner pushed his bag into the overhead compartment next to hers and shut the door, securing it in place.

"I could have brought my entire wardrobe and we _still_ would have had room in here for all your weapons," Deeks said.

Kensi plucked a magazine out of her bag and opened it pointedly. "Your wardrobe, as you call it, consists of about four button-ups and a pair of jeans."

"Ouch." He slid into the seat next to hers.

"She's right, Deeks," Sam said as he moved past them down the aisle. "Plaid is kinda your thing."

"Plaid isn't my _thing_," he protested. "_Awesomeness_ is my thing."

Kensi snorted and turned a page. "My point is, we'd have room for everybody's weapons _and_ all the clothing you own."

The jet began moving toward the runway, preparing for takeoff.

Deeks pulled a magazine out of the rack in front of him and opened it, staring at the glossary for a second. "So…" he started.

She didn't look up. "So…." Flipping to an article about a recent celebrity cheating scandal, Kensi scanned the photos, feigning interest.

"How many weapons did you bring?" He was doing his best to hide a grin.

She looked at him incredulously. "Um, none, Deeks," she answered quickly. "We're on _vacation_."

He shook his head, disbelieving. "Come on, I know you better than that and… it's not really a vacation. Seven?"

She flipped the page again, pretending to ignore him.

"Eight?"

"Nope."

"Nine? Really?"

She knew how long this could go on if she didn't respond. "Four," she said finally.

"One gun, one knife, and two ninja-throwing-stars?" he guessed.

She pursed her lips to keep from smiling. "No," she said.

He waited.

She rolled her eyes and sighed, turning to look at him. "Two guns, a can of mace, and a taser."

"That's my girl." He smiled and turned a few pages of his magazine, settling into his seat.

The jet picked up speed on the runway and Kensi felt her ears pop as they lifted into the sky. A few rows back, she could hear Eric and Nell discussing the finer points of autopilot. She closed her eyes while the jet ascended. When they made it above the clouds, the turbulence was gone and she let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Flying didn't usually bother her, but she had never flown on such a small plane before. Looking out the window, she watched the landscape turn from buildings to farmland, hoping this 'vacation' would be uneventful.

* * *

**12:00**

Somewhere over a flat, treeless State, Deeks finally spoke. "Kens?" he said, "You wanna tell me what this is all about?" His voice was quiet.

Kensi shut her magazine and turned to look at him with, what she hoped was, a perplexed expression. "What _what_ is about, Deeks?"

"I don't know…" he shrugged, "Care to explain the sudden passive-aggressive streak you seem to be having? Maybe I'm lucky you only brought four weapons."

She pursed her lips and snapped her magazine open again with a loud _CRACK_. "Deeks," she said, "If I wanted you dead, you already would be."

"You may have mutant-ninja training, but I'm pretty scrappy," he argued.

"Besides," she said, continuing through his protest, "You _know_ the answer to your question, and I really don't think we need to discuss specifics."

He shook his head, "Man, do I really wish that were true. The only thing I _do_ know," he went on, leaning over and speaking softly, "is that you drove me home from the hospital and then disappeared for two months."

She glanced across the seats, making sure nobody was listening in. Just in case, she kept her voice low. "Which, by the way, is a great excuse to hop into bed with the first floozy that offers you a free ride." Saying the words out loud caused her heart to pound in her chest. This train of thought had occurred to her during the drive to the boatshed after the incident at the bar. True, she had only seen a brief encounter between Deeks and the bar bimbo; however, horrible scenarios had been playing on repeat in her head for the past week, each one making her angrier. In her mind, he had kissed her, almost died, and then moved on to a new piece-of-ass before she had a chance to process anything.

His mouth hung open, a shocked expression on his face. Her statement had obviously caught him off guard.

She was still staring at him, eyes locked on his.

"Ever had a rib fracture before, Kens?" he asked finally.

She didn't respond.

"Yeah, didn't think so. Try three ribs _and_ a broken arm _and_ a swollen jaw… kinda makes that type of acrobatic work a little painful."

They both fell silent momentarily as Callen walked past toward the back of the plane. If he noticed the sudden silence, he didn't let on.

When he was out of earshot, Kensi continued, her voice low, "Look, I really don't need the visual of you and circus sex when I go to sleep at night."

He rolled his eyes, "Funny, because for someone who doesn't want to think about it, you seem to be spending a lot of time thinking about it."

He had a point.

"You _know_ it's not that simple, Deeks." She raised her chin and glared at him. "And I do _not_ spend a lot of time thinking about your sex life." _So. Not. True._ Her face turned pink.

"Kinda like how you _know_ the girl at the bar was just that—a girl, at a bar, that-."

"You licked?" she raised her eyebrows.

"It was a dare, Kens." He shook his head. "I made twenty bucks."

"And what did _she_ get for letting you put your tongue on her?"

He chuckled, "Touché."

They were quiet for a few seconds.

"You know, if you wanted an explanation, there's this new invention called the 'phone' that can be used for communication these days," he said.

"Yeah?" She pretended to be intrigued, resting her chin on her fist and staring at him with wide eyes. "So tell me then, is that a two-way device?"

"Good question—why, yes, it is."

"Huh," she shrugged. "Guess I'll have to try this 'talky device' one of these days."

In that moment, Kensi realized (and had perhaps known all along) that he was telling her the truth about the girl at the bar. She had wanted to believe that he had committed an act of injustice against her. If he had slept with her, or anyone else for that matter, it would mean that this… _thing_… they had wasn't real. It would mean that her avoidance of him over the past few weeks was null and void. Their partnership would recover, and her world would go back to the way it was. As she followed this train of thought, however, she also realized that she wanted more than just a partnership.

And it terrified her.

* * *

**Somewhere over the Eastern United States, 17:00**

Deeks awoke to the smell of apple shampoo and Kensi's head resting firmly on his shoulder. He hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep. As he opened his eyes, he saw the faces of Sam and Callen staring back at him. They were resting their elbows on the back of the seats.

He felt Kensi stir next to him.

"Not really used to two dudes staring at me while I sleep," he said, rubbing his eyes. "You guys are creepers."

"And you two," Callen replied, pointing between Deeks and Kensi, "are adorable."

"Snuggling," Sam added.

Kensi opened her eyes and groaned, lifting her head off of Deeks' shoulder. "We are not snuggling."

Sam turned to his partner, "What would you call it, G?"

Callen shook his head, "Looked like snuggling to me, Sam."

"So you're telling me that you know what partner snuggling looks like, then?" Deeks challenged. "And, so there isn't any confusion, I am insinuating that the two of you do your own share of snuggling."

Sam hid a smile. "Not really a snuggler," he said.

"Not a talker, not a hugger, not a snuggler…" Deeks trailed off. "What _do_ you bring to the table, Sam?"

"Skills, Deeks, mad skills." He stood up, Callen following suit. "We'll be at Dulles in one click," he said. "Hetty wants to see everyone in the conference room in ten."

After Sam and Callen disappeared behind the set of doors at the south end of the plane, Deeks stretched and rolled his neck from side to side. Next to him, Kensi yawned.

"Sleep okay?" he asked.

She blushed, "Um, yeah. Sorry about falling asleep on your-."

"It's okay," he said, waving it off. "You looked… well, adorable, apparently."

She sighed and rested her head on the back of her seat. "Deeks," she said, after a few seconds, "when did everything get so-."

"Complicated?"

She nodded, her brown eyes staring into him. It had been so long since he had seen her look so… vulnerable.

He broke eye contact momentarily, staring down at his hands and then up at the ceiling. "Probably longer ago than either of us care to admit," he said finally.

"Do you think they know?" she asked.

Deeks didn't need to ask who 'they' were. He remembered the note that Hetty had given him a few months back; _Sunshine and gunpowder_, it read (i.e. Hetty knew). Sam, Callen, and the others? Probably not. "No," he said, shaking his head. This information was need-to-know. "Although, they are-."

"Federal agents," she finished.

"Yeah." He ran a hand through his hair. "They are trained to know stuff, after all."

"Maybe we should-."

"Stop finishing one another sentences in public?" He grinned as she rolled her eyes.

"Amongst other things." She broke eye contact and exhaled.

"So, you're… saying there are other things we shouldn't do in public?"

"You _know_ what I mean."

He shook his head again, "No. This confused look on my face right now," he drew an imaginary circle around his face for emphasis, "is not just for show."

She rolled her eyes and stood up, stretching her arms above her head. "Same look you always have, Deeks." She placed her hands on the tops of the seats and swung her legs over his easily, coming to rest in the aisle. "Come on, we're going to be late to the meeting and then Hetty'll think we're canoodling back here."

"Nobody uses the word 'canoodling' anymore, Kens," he said as he stood up and stretched his back. His ribs ached from sitting in one place for so long.

Kensi was halfway down the aisle. "Fine," she said, smiling at him. "She'll think we're back here fooling around."

"I'd fool around with you any day, Fern," he said, following her to the back of the plane. As they reached the door that separated them from the conference room, Deeks grabbed her arm, stopping her forward progress. "Kensi," he said, spinning her around to face him. They were inches apart. He dropped his hand from her bicep, sliding it down to meet hers, entwining their fingers.

She squeezed his hand lightly and lifted her eyes to meet his. "Yeah?"

He breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of her shampoo. He had missed that smell over the last few months. "We need to talk about this."

There it was.

There was a '_this'_, and it needed to be talked about. He inwardly scoffed at himself for still being unable to use a word other than 'this.'

She let go of his hand and reached up, rubbing his cheek with the palm of her hand. "I know," she answered.

He searched her face for a few seconds, looking for a sign that she was about to bolt, but found none. They stood there, nose to nose for a few more seconds before she turned the doorknob and pushed open the door.

* * *

**Somewhere over Washington, D.C., 17:20**

Hetty stood at the head of the conference room table as the last two of her agents stepped through the door. She waited as they situated themselves, leaning against the wall with expressionless faces—somehow still managing to look simultaneously innocent and guilty.

"Thank you for finally joining us, Agent Blye, Detective Deeks." She kept her face neutral as she addressed the whole group. "Director Vance has been kind enough to loan us one of the D.C. safe houses for our stay. It is approximately three blocks from the Washington Hilton, where the ball will be taking place on Saturday evening."

"Kindness," Callen said, a small smile playing on his lips, "not to be confused with cheapness."

Next to him, Sam snorted.

"Enough, both of you," Hetty said, pointing between her two senior agents. "D.C. agents will be picking us up from the airport at 18:00. Dinner and then to bed, all of you." She glanced around the room, making eye contact with each person individually. She noticed Deeks raising his hand.

"Question, Mr. Deeks?"

He cleared his throat. "Um, yeah… about this whole… _bed_ situation."

"I am getting to that," she said. Reaching into her blazer, she pulled out a manila envelope and dumped the contents onto the table. Four sets of house keys made a clanging sound as they hit the wood surface. "Eight keys, seven people," she said. "Work it out." With that, she turned and exited the room, leaving her team to their own devices.

* * *

Callen grabbed a key off the table. "Partners?" he said to Sam.

Sam shot him an incredulous expression and grabbed his own key. "Sorry G, you're just not as pretty as my wife." He threw his arm around Michelle, who gave him a kiss on the cheek. "We're childless and on vacation. Doesn't happen often."

Deeks shook his head, "I call whichever room is furthest from Sam's."

"I can't believe you're dumping me," Callen said.

"Don't think of it like that… it's more of a temporary reassignment. Besides, she can do things that you can't." He grinned and Michelle elbowed him in the stomach, rolling her eyes.

"Nope," Callen replied, "I can definitely do that."

"Like to see you try," Sam challenged.

During this exchange, Callen noticed Deeks whispering fervently in his partner's ear. She shook her head once and whispered something back. They were at the far corner of the room, so he couldn't hear what they were saying.

"Something you'd like to add, guys?" he asked.

The hushed conversation stopped and Kensi shot Deeks one last look before moving forward and grabbing a key off the table. She cleared her throat, "I am going to room with my partner," she said, an unconvincing tone to her voice. "Because… otherwise," she shot him a look over her shoulder, "Someone else will get to hear his incessant string of babble… All. Night. Long."

"Yaow," Eric said, adding a whistle for emphasis.

"I call the furthest room from the two of them," Sam said.

Kensi and Deeks rolled their eyes.

"Please. Let's be adults about this. We've slept together before…" Deeks said, before quickly adding, "You know… in a completely platonic fashion… undercover… where there were ample amounts of clothing." He stopped for a second and scratched his head. "Which is truly unfortunate because have you seen my partner?" He took a breath and Kensi silenced him with a look.

"Thank you for that visual," Callen said, shaking his head.

"You know what?" Kensi said, a note of agitation creeping into her voice, "you can have him." She lifted her hand to toss the key back on the table, but Deeks stopped her.

"Hey!" he said, "No takesies-backsies. You, my dear, are stuck with me."

"Awesome," she said with a strained voice.

"Guess that leaves me and Eric," Callen said. "And Nell with a room to herself."

Nell shook her head, "No complaints from me." She grabbed the last key off the table and swung it around on her finger.

Hetty's voice suddenly filled the conference room, "Now that you have chosen your roommate, would everyone please find their seats. We will be arriving in Washington D.C. in approximately twenty minutes."

* * *

**Note:** So, what I hear you saying is: Longer chapters and more Densi! I was super nervous about releasing this chapter, because it's the introduction to the meat of our angsty adventure. I hope that the character's voices are as clear in your minds as they are in mine. Thanks for staying with me!


	7. Chapter 7

The Navy Ball

Chapter 7

* * *

**Washington D.C., 18:30**

"Do you want to tell me what that was all about?" Kensi jammed the handle of her carry-on down and lifted it up as she and Deeks descended the aircraft stairs.

"What _what_ was all about?"

"Can we _not_ do this again?" she said, irritation creeping into her voice. They reached the bottom step and she grabbed the sleeve of his jacket, spinning him around to face her. The other members of the team glanced back briefly, but continued walking toward the hanger. "Rooming together all weekend isn't really the best way to stay on the down low."

Deeks sighed and raked a hand through his blonde curls, avoiding eye contact. "Nightmares," he said finally.

Kensi dropped her hand. "Oh." She looked down at her feet. "Sidorov?" she asked quietly.

Deeks squinted at the sun and nodded. "And his band of nasty torture devices." He adjusted his duffel bag over his shoulder. "As much as I love being the butt of Sam and Callen's jokes," he said, "I'd rather them not catch me waking up in the middle of the night… screaming like a little girl."

Ahead of them, the others were greeting the D.C. agents and loading luggage into three vehicles. Kensi and Deeks started walking again.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked.

He shrugged, "I thought you needed some space, didn't want to unload on you."

She opened her mouth to say something else-to apologize for not calling, for not asking how he was doing-but they had reached the rest of the group.

"And this is Detective Marty Deeks and Special Agent Kensi Blye," Callen was saying.

Kensi moved forward to greet their east coast counterparts, seeing a few familiar faces among the bunch; it had been a few years since they had crossed paths.

"Detective?" asked a dark-haired woman, identified as Special Agent Ziva David.

Deeks nodded, "LAPD liaison."

"Oh!" she said, "you are me—well, you _were_ me."

Seeing Deeks' confused expression, Special Agent Timothy McGee added, "Ziva was our Mossad liaison before becoming an agent."

Kensi recalled Director Vance mentioning this a few years back; Ziva had cut ties with her old agency after a particularly dangerous mission had gone awry and Mossad had left her for dead. Kensi decided that she and Ziva would probably get along splendidly if they worked in the same division.

Ziva grabbed Kensi's bag and placed in the trunk. "You are hungry, yes?"

"If we don't feed her soon," Deeks interrupted, tossing his duffel unceremoniously in the trunk, "she'll start gnawing off my leg in the car. I think she's already exhausted her Twinkie supply, so we'd better move fast."

Kensi punched him playfully in the arm.

"Ow!" he said, grinning and rubbing his shoulder. "Can you at least start with my left leg? Maybe at the toes? I feel like my balance would initially be compromised, but as long as you started with the pinkie and-."

"Oh my God, Deeks," Kensi said, covering his mouth and pushing him into the back seat. "Just shut up."

Ziva snorted. "He reminds me of my partner," she said. "I bet he talks incessantly during stakeouts." She was just about to open the driver's side door when another agent walked up and plucked the keys out of her hand. "Tony," she protested, "It is _my_ car!"

Tony waved to Kensi and Deeks in the back seat. "Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo," he said, introducing himself. He slid past Ziva and squeezed into the driver's seat, grunting as he moved the seat backward.

Ziva rolled her eyes and walked around the other side of the car.

"Trust me," he said as Ziva shut the door and buckled her seatbelt, "you'll thank me for this later when you're still breathing."

"Tony, I have never killed anyone with a vehicle…" she stopped and thought for a second. "Not _accidentally _anyway."

"And talking during a stakeout is standard operating procedure, Zi-VA," he said as he started up the engine. Tony shifted his glance toward the two agents in the backseat. "I don't know what kind of fancy west coast food you folks usually eat, but how do you feel about cheeseburgers?" he asked.

Deeks snorted, "music to my partner's ears."

* * *

**Louie's Grill and Saloon **

The restaurant was a small, hole in the wall with excellent cuisine, according to Tony. It was also within walking distance of the safe house, which was a bonus. The teams made small talk at first, mostly discussing their demographics—hometown, college, previous career (when applicable). Deeks, who had always thought of special agents (no matter which agency they hailed from) as stuffy, white collar snobs, was impressed at how laid back their east coast counterparts were. The dynamics of the team even mirrored theirs in a small way.

"So," Tony was saying, "Office of Special Projects." He took a swig of his beer and leaned back in his chair, looking at the agents sitting around him.

"Your team does mostly undercover work?" Ziva grabbed a few French fries off her partner's plate and dipped them in ketchup.

Sam nodded, "Founded in 2006. We deal mostly with major threats to national security."

"Which is how you became involved with Isaac Sidorov." Special Agent Timothy McGee added. "I read the report. You deserve every bit of the recognition for recovering those nukes." He reached across Ziva and grabbed a fry off Tony's plate.

Tony slid his plate away from the other agents, "Enough with the food stealing, both of you!"

"I ordered broccoli," McGee said, dipping his French fry in Ziva's ketchup. "Buyer's remorse."

"It's what we do… what all of us do… everyday," Callen said. "Why we're being awarded for it this time?" He paused and glanced at the other members of his team. "Your guess is as good as mine."

"Accept it and move on, Agent Callen," Gibbs said, rolling his glass of bourbon around in one hand.

"Says the guy whose received 'Agent of the Year' for what… thirteen years in a row?" Callen countered.

"Like I said, just accept it." He took a sip of his drink and reached across Callen to grab a fry off his senior agent's plate. "And don't let it go to your head."

Tony rolled his eyes and pushed the rest of his dinner to the center of the table. "Anyone else?"

Deeks grabbed one and stuffed it into his mouth. "They can keep the award if I could get my molars back." He took a long swallow of his beer. "I vote, no more nuclear weapons and no more torture."

"Here, here!" Sam said, clinking his glass against Deeks'.

"You know what I'd like to see?" Callen said, grinning.

Sam glanced at his partner and shook his head. "No."

"Oh, come on…." Callen replied. "Too soon?"

"Ten years from now will _still_ be too soon, G."

"What?" Kensi asked, taking a huge bite of her burger.

"Deeks… making out with Sam."

"It was CPR, not romance," Sam retorted. "And nobody needs to relive that."

"Oh," Eric piped up. "We have it on vide—oww!"

Deeks saw Nell shoot Eric a stern look and he immediately fell silent.

"Wait, we have footage of it?" Callen asked.

Eric and Nell exchanged a glance.

"Well…" Nell started slowly, "There happened to be a government satellite in the area at the time." She stopped and looked at Eric momentarily. "But technically we don't have access to it…."

Deeks made a sudden realization about what Nell was saying. "Exactly… when does this satellite footage start?" he asked.

Nell and Eric exchanged another quick glance, neither making eye contact with him.

"Um… the CIA was also tracking Sidorov's movements… so we hacked into their system a few weeks ago to find out if they had any information that we did-." Eric looked at Deeks' blank expression and stopped. "Footage starts shortly before you guys arrived at the house."

Beside him, Kensi choked on her burger.

_So they know,_ Deeks thought.

"Why haven't we seen this?" Callen asked.

Nell shook her head. "It's shotty at best… not really much to see." She looked up, momentarily catching Deeks' eyes before looking back at Callen.

_She definitely knows._

"Besides… it's probably better that nobody else sees it. We could go to prison for accessing it in the first place," she finished.

"Not that I'm arguing… but when has that ever stopped you before?" Callen asked.

Nell shrugged, "SecNav has never been paying close attention before."

The other agents seemed to accept this answer. Deeks wondered how long it had taken Eric and Nell to craft this argument. Was protecting him and Kensi their primary motivation in keeping the satellite footage under wraps? He wasn't sure how to feel about this new development; wasn't sure he wanted others on the team knowing about his… _thing_ (damnit Deeks… use a different word!) with his partner. Stealing a look at Kensi, he hoped she wasn't completely freaking out.

She was staring into space with unblinking glassy eyes, absently crumpling a straw wrapper in her fist.

_Completely freaking out._

"Kens?" he said.

"Huh? Yeah?" she said, startled. "Sorry, I'm going to use the… bathroom." She stood up, looking somewhat frazzled.

"Didn't you just pee like… five minutes ago?" he asked.

She shot him a dirty look over her shoulder as she walked toward the women's bathroom. "You're not one to talk."

"Hydration is _healthy_," he said, biting down on another French fry.

"You call it hydration," she shot back, not turning around, "The rest of the world calls it a bladder infection."

* * *

Nell had waited a few minutes before following Kensi into the restroom. She was fairly certain that Eric's slip-up about the case footage had blown over easily, but she didn't want to arouse suspicions with a group bathroom trip.

Kensi was splashing water on her face when she entered, letting it drip off her chin and into the white porcelain sink.

"Hey," she said.

Nell handed her a wad of paper towel and leaned against the countertop, looking at Kensi through the reflection in the mirror.

Kensi blotted her face. "Thank you," she said after a minute.

Nell shrugged, "for what?"

"You _know_ for what." She threw the wad of paper towel into the trash and turned to face Nell.

Nell folded her arms across her chest. "I mean… I assumed that something was going on between you guys," she replied, "but I was a little… _surprised_ to catch you in the act."

"I wouldn't… necessarily call it _something_," Kensi argued. "I mean… there's _not _nothing going on, but the word _something_ implies-."

"That you spend your free time kissing your partner?" Nell said, matter-of-factly.

Kensi sighed. "Does Hetty know?"

Nell shook her head. "But, you may want to consider keeping the hanky-panky out of the workplace."

Kensi rolled her eyes, "Hanky-panky is _so_ not the word I would use."

"Canoodling?" Nell said.

She snorted. "Deeks said nobody uses that word anymore."

"So you _are_ canoodling with your partner?"

Kensi held up a finger, "I didn't say that."

"So you're just… talking about canoodling with him?"

Kensi looked like she was about to protest, but stopped. "That's actually a more accurate assessment."

"Is this just a… partners with privileges thing?" she asked, tapping her fingers against the sink.

It took Kensi a few moments before she shook her head.

"I didn't think so."

"Please don't..."

"I won't," Nell assured her. She took a few seconds to reapply her lip-gloss in the mirror before leaving the bathroom ahead of Kensi. When she returned to the table, she wasn't surprised to see Deeks watching her, eyebrows raised.

"She okay?" he asked.

Nell nodded. The group had thinned out while they had been in the bathroom. Sam and Michelle had apparently departed for the safe house, prompting Callen to leave with Gibbs (Nell assumed he was _avoiding _the safe house for a few hours). Deeks and Tony were making immature "sock on the doorknob" jokes while Ziva pointed out that it was summer, and nobody was _wearing_ socks.

"The sock on the doorknob is an old college signal that means someone's getting it on, Ziva," Tony explained.

"Why do you not just _lock_ the door?" she asked.

"What if you have a roommate with a key?" McGee countered.

She thought about it for a minute. "What if you cannot find a sock?"

"I'll tell you, if there is _anything_ hanging on a doorknob, I would think twice about entering unannounced," Deeks said with a chuckle.

Kensi picked this moment to return from the ladies' room and sit back down at the table.

"I can see the conversation has deteriorated since I left," she said.

"They are talking about Sam hanging a sock on the safe house door," Ziva explained, rolling her eyes at her partner. She grabbed her jacket and stood up, Tony and McGee following suit.

Kensi cringed. "We should probably stay clear for at least another..." she looked at her watch and stood. "Hour."

"An _hour_?" Deeks asked as he stood, an incredulous look on his face. "It's the first kids-less vacation in _forever_ and you're only giving them an hour?" He grabbed his partner's jacket and helped her put it on.

"Seriously, Deeks!" she said, "I _so_ do not want to have this conversation anymore."

"Kens, if you were, say… married with little mutant-ninja-assassins-."

"We are not talking about this." She punched him in the shoulder and pushed him toward the door, following the other NCIS team members.

"And you wanted to get away for the weekend." He continued without pausing. "Don't you think an hour would be an insufficient amount of time to…."

"Oh my God, if you finish that sentence I will kill you, Deeks!"

He grinned, "Do it? You know… do it, and do it, and do it do it do it."

"Tony!" Ziva's voice stopped Deeks' commentary. They had reached the outside door; Tony was about to lead the way out of the restaurant. Ziva pulled him toward her by the jacket, spinning him so that his back was against the glass door.

"Is this about the sock comments?" he said.

She rolled her eyes and indicated to a young blonde passerby. "It's Sarah Woodring," she hissed.

Tony waited until the woman had passed before he looked.

McGee peered through the adjacent window. "It is her," he said. Seeing Kensi and Deeks' confused expression, added, "A witness in our current case. We've been looking for her for a few weeks… thought she had left the country."

"If she sees Ziva and me, she'll disappear again," Tony said, watching her walk away from the restaurant down the street.

Kensi looked up and down the sidewalk before pushing the door open and digging through her purse. "So let's not let that happen," she said with a grin.

* * *

Note: Holy cow, thank you for all the kickin' reviews, everyone!


	8. Chapter 8

**The Navy Ball**

**Chapter 8**

* * *

Deeks watched as Kensi pulled a small container out of her purse and opened it, picking through the contents.

"Okay, for the record," he said, "When I ask how many weapons you brought on 'vacation,' you need to answer honestly. Our partnership needs to be based on trust—a mutual respect for one another-."

She smirked and handed him an earwig. "These aren't weapons, Deeks," she replied. Turning to McGee, she tossed him an earwig and asked, "do you have computer access?"

He nodded, placing the device in his ear and switching it on. Turning, he quickly jogged toward his car, parked a little ways down the street.

"They're weapons of _communication_, Kensi," Deeks protested.

"What do you have in mind?" Tony asked, watching her unload her supplies.

"Is she smart enough to use a burn phone?" Kensi asked.

Ziva and Tony exchanged a glance.

"Maybe," he replied. "Her father was an intelligence officer, mother was a CIA operative."

McGee rejoined them, computer in hand.

"We are going to lose her," Ziva said, motioning toward Sarah Woodring, now twenty-five yards down the street.

Deeks shook his head and pointed to the mouth of an alley on the right side of the street. "We'll head her off on the next street over," he said.

McGee glanced up from his laptop. "How do you know she's going to turn right…." His voice trailed off as the five agents watched the woman make a right hand turn at the end of the street.

Deeks grinned, "She was holding car keys in her hand and the nearest parking..." he pointed, "Is either a parking garage on the left-."

"With cameras," Kensi said as she handed McGee a small GPS device.

"Or a pay by the hour lot with no security and very little streetlight to the right," Deeks finished.

McGee returned the bug to Kensi, who jammed an earwig in her ear. Turning to her partner, she said, "Let's go." They walked swiftly down the sidewalk and into the narrow alleyway. "How're your ribs feeling?" she asked.

"I'm not quite up for an obstacle course, but I'll keep you updated."

The streetlights bathed the alley in soft light, drawing the shadows out. The result was an eerie feeling of quiet darkness. They passed a row of industrial trashcans and dimly lit doorways.

"Talk to me, McGee," Kensi said quietly.

McGee's voice suddenly filled their eardrums. "Sarah Woodring," he answered, "Twenty-nine-year-old female working as a journalist for Huff Post since 2012. Graduated magna cum laude from Penn State, Vice President of the Beta Rho Sorority in 2006."

As they reached the end of the alleyway, Kensi stopped and pulled the rubber band out of her ponytail. Her long brown hair fell down around her shoulders. Turning to her partner, she looked at him and cringed.

"What?" he said, checking out his reflection in a window and smoothing down his hair.

When he turned back, she undid the top button of his shirt.

"If I knew it was going to be _that_ kind of party…"

"You wish it was going to be that kind of party," she returned with an eye roll.

"I always have high hopes, sugar dumpling."

Kensi looked him over, nodding. Together, they turned the corner and started walking toward where Sarah Woodring would be. This street resembled the last, with restaurants and bars in close proximity. There were people everywhere; sitting in outdoor patios, walking in groups, and waiting to gain entrance to low lit clubs.

"Same sorority, different college," Kensi said as she scanned the busy street for Sarah Woodring.

Deeks shook his head, "Different sorority, same college."

McGee's voice filled their ears again, "In college, Sarah was known for throwing some wild parties at the sorority house, she was even arrested and charged with disturbing the peace in 2005. Boyfriend was Ned Shaddly; he played football for Penn… roommate was Lisa Ellis."

"I have a visual," Kensi said, catching sight of the woman's red jacket. She took hold of Deeks' arm and they easily transitioned into their new roles. She slowed her pace as Sarah crossed a busy intersection and waited until she was about ten feet away.

"Oh my God, Sarah?!" she called, loud enough to be heard over the traffic.

Sarah Woodring glanced behind her momentarily before raising her eyebrows and coming to a tentative stop in front of Kensi and Deeks.

"Do I… know you?" she asked, clutching her purse a little tighter.

"Tiffany Kramer!" Kensi said. She waited a few seconds to proceed. "I went to Penn State! Oh my God, how many years has it been?" she pretended to think for a minute, "Like seven?"

Sarah stood, a perplexed expression on her face.

"I met you at a _huge_ Beta Rho party after the homecoming game… your boyfriend was playing… Ned, I think?"

Sarah nodded, "Those were some wild times."

_She was buying it._

"Oh, I am so rude!" she gave Deeks' arm a squeeze, "This is my boyfriend, Dexter DiWitt. He graduated from Penn a few years before us."

Deeks moved forward to shake her hand. "Dex," he said.

"Oh!" Kensi cried, "We are going to miss the movie if we don't go soon!" She turned back toward Sarah Woodring, who looked just as startled as when Kensi first approached. "We should catch up soon! Give me your phone and I'll leave you my number."

Sarah, still looking unsure, pulled her phone out of her purse and handed it to Kensi, who quickly punched in her own number and hit 'call.' She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. _Done_, she thought.

"Um, it was… nice to see you again," the woman said after Kensi handed her phone back.

"Oh my God, you too!" She launched herself forward, gathering Sarah up in a hug and tagging her jacket with a GPS device. Taking a hold of Deeks' hand again, they started backing away from Sarah, Deeks pulling her away in a typical 'we're going to be late if you don't stop talking' fashion. "Make sure you give me a call if you wanna catch up, ok?" With a little wave, she turned and they continued walking in the direction they had been headed prior to the meet. She didn't glance back.

When they were out of earshot, Deeks said, "McGee, we have an audience."

The two agents came to a stop at an intersection, and Kensi turned to face her partner, attempting to get a better look. Twenty feet back, she saw what Deeks had been referring to. There was a man in a black sedan staring at Sarah's retreating form through the side mirror. Kensi patted Deeks' chest and smiled, trying not to arouse suspicion. "I see them," she said.

"You want us to engage?" Deeks asked. He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead, not daring to turn around again. The crosswalk light signaled them to move and the pair started forward again.

"Negative," came McGee's voice. Tony and Ziva are headed that way.

"Black Chevy Malibu parked across the street from the parking lot," Deeks said. He let go of Kensi's hand and wrapped his arm around her waist. "Two guys inside, one with binoculars. Plate is Echo, Uniform, Lima four twenty-one."

"Got it," McGee said. "And Sarah Woodring's GPS device is transmitting. We owe you one."

"You can buy me a drink at the Navy Ball," he replied with a smile.

"I'll buy you two—alcohol is free all night," McGee said. "You should be able to see Tony and Ziva now. They're going to tail the tail."

Deeks saw Ziva's car round the corner. She parallel parked within eyesight of the Malibu, waiting for the driver's next move. Deeks nodded discretely at the two agents as he and Kensi passed by.

"The safe house is five blocks to your left," McGee continued. "I sent the address to your phones."

"Thank, man," Deeks said. "Oh, and… can we _not_ mention this to Hetty?" he asked. "I'm technically not cleared for field work."

Kensi snorted. "She'll find out."

"Not if we don't _tell her_."

"It's Hetty. She knows everything," she replied.

Deeks nodded, "Isn't that the truth." As they turned the corner, he reluctantly let go of his partner's waist. The night breeze swirled around them as they walked through the neighborhood in companionable silence. Deeks checked the address on his phone and pointed to a gray house about halfway down the street. It was well-kempt with a small front porch, the yard surrounded by a white fence. Deeks pushed open the gate and he and Kensi made their way across the stone path leading to the front door. On the porch, he noticed a security camera hidden in a hanging plant. He pulled his key out and unlocked the door, holding it open for Kensi.

Inside the foyer were his and Kensi's bags, presumably dropped off by Tony and Ziva. Callen and Eric were sitting on the sofa watching television, feet propped up on the coffee table.

"Hey, where have you two been?" Callen asked.

Kensi crossed the room and plopped down in a chair, pulling her feet up underneath her.

"I am going to plead the fifth," Deeks replied, grabbing his duffel and Kensi's suitcase off the foyer floor. "And I would like the record to reflect that anything that may have transpired this evening was _not_ my idea."

Kensi laughed. "You just don't want Hetty knowing we broke curfew."

"Wait, there's a curfew?" Deeks asked. "I thought her 'dinner and bed' comment was just a suggestion."

"Hetty already paid us her nightly visit," Eric said.

"I told her I thought you guys were already in bed," Callen added. He shrugged, "which technically wasn't a lie, because I didn't know that you weren't."

"Then that's where I'll be going." Deeks made his way toward the stairs. "She's probably watching us from some hidden camera, biding her time before striking."

"Sam and Michelle are the first door on the left," Callen warned.

"Got it." He ascended the stairs, turning right at the top. There was an open door about ten steps down the hallway, leading into a large room with two double beds. He dropped their bags down on the floor before shutting the door behind him. Digging through his duffel, he found his pajama bottoms and a white v-neck. It had been a long day and the prospect of sleep sounded wonderful. He changed quickly and collapsed on the bed, feeling exhausted. His ribs were throbbing and he closed his eyes against the pain. A few minutes went by before he heard the door open softly.

"You still awake?" Kensi whispered.

"No," he replied.

He heard her pad across the room to the bed and unzip her suitcase. He wondered what she had packed to sleep in.

"Close your eyes, please."

"They are closed."

He heard the rustle of fabric and couldn't stop himself from opening one eye. Moonlight streamed through the window, illuminating Kensi's bare back as she peeled her top off. He felt heat shoot down his body and he squeezed his eyes shut again as she started to turn around.

"I saw that," she said.

"Saw _what_?" He clamped a hand over his eyes. "I certainly saw _nothing_ on account of my eyes being closed… you know… because peeking would be wildly inappropriate and unprofessional."

"Deeks, you can open them now."

"Are you sure?" He peered through his fingers. Kensi was standing near the bed, her discarded clothes in a pile at her feet, wearing a tiny tank top and… _were those underwear_? He recovered his eyes. "Speaking of inappropriate," he said.

She looked down. "They're boy shorts!"

"Those," he said, opening his eyes and pointing at her tiny bottoms, "Are _not_ boy shorts, okay? Boys do not wear shorts that small."

"Oh my God, keep your voice down!" she hissed, crossing the room and covering his mouth.

"Why didn't you pack pajamas?" His voice came out muffled.

She lifted her hand from his mouth. "What?"

"_Pajamas_, Kensi. Why didn't you pack some?"

She furrowed her brow. "I thought I was going to be rooming with Nell."

"And you were… what? Going to have a pillow fight and talk about the boys you like?!" He sat up in bed, holding up a finger, "You know what? Don't answer that!"

She grinned and sauntered back over to her bed, swinging her hips tauntingly. "I think I'll leave you with that visual."

"Kensi Blye, you are one evil woman." Deeks leaned back against his pillow and looked up at the ceiling. He heard Kensi pull back the covers and get situated in bed. He tried not to think about what she was wearing underneath those covers.

"You still trying not to think about my boy shorts?" she asked, a smile in her voice.

"Yup."

"Goodnight Deeks."

"Night Kensi."

* * *

**01:00**

_He must have lost consciousness because when he awoke, the room was empty and his jaw really _really_ hurt. The mouth guard and drill were lying, bloodied, on a nearby table. His head felt heavy as he lifted it to glance around the room in an attempt to get his bearings. From a distance, he heard two men arguing. Deeks tried to move his hands, but they were bound too tightly. He looked up and was relieved to see Sam through the glass door, looking back at him._

"_You okay?" Sam mouthed._

_Deeks nodded, hoping his expression appeared optimistic. He actually hoped his face appeared _anything _besides painful._

_Sam looked left and right before lifting his hands to the sides momentarily. He'd gotten his ropes off. This was a good sign._

_Deeks twisted his body sideways, trying to test the strength of the rope. He was rewarded with a slight give near the ankles, which enabled him to free his right foot._

_The voices drew nearer. He couldn't make out what they were saying because of the loud ringing in his ears._

_Suddenly, one of Sidorov's cronies burst through the door, pointing a gun at Deeks' face. He barely had time to react, launching himself sideways at the last second as the gun discharged. He felt the bullet skim his left arm as he landed solidly on his right. His bone made a horrific cracking sound as he hit the ground and he cried out in pain. The chair snapped in half on impact with the concrete, allowing him to wiggle free from the rope. It was only going to be a matter of seconds before the goon with the gun aimed a second time…._

_CRACK!_

_Deeks rolled and sat up just in time to see Sam attack his assailant with a chair, hitting him over the head and knocking him unconscious. The man fell forward, gun sliding across the floor into Deeks' waiting hand. Sam pulled him to his feet by his good arm._

"_Broken?" he asked, motioning to Deeks' arm._

_He nodded and handed the weapon to Sam while cradling his right arm. Shooting with his left wasn't going to do them any good. The two agents moved to stand behind the door, anticipating more company._

_Not even a second later, the door slammed open, revealing three more armed men. Sam shot the first and second point blank and then ducked as the third plowed through the door, grabbing Sam at the waist. On the floor, Deeks grabbed the leg of a broken chair and swung at the man's legs, hitting him just below the knee. The man collapsed, letting go of Sam in the process. On his knees, he grappled at what was left of the broken chair, bringing it down on Deeks' ribcage. Another shot rang out._

"Deeks?"

_He immediately couldn't breathe. He leaned forward, struggling to get air in his lungs, but it was no use._

"Deeks?!"

Kensi's voice ricocheted through his eardrums. Deeks sat up, clutching his chest and gasping for air, sweat dripping from his hair. His eyes tried to focus in the dark and he felt his partner's reassuring hand on the back of his head, rubbing his neck with her thumb. It only took him a few seconds to realize where he was.

"It's okay," she was saying, "it was just a dream."

He felt his pulse start to slow, his breathing return to normal. He leaned forward and rubbed his temples, feeling the phantom jaw and face pain begin to disappear. The problem with these nightmares was that they felt so real. He wasn't able to distinguish between the dream and reality because there wasn't an overt difference between the two. Torture felt like torture. Pain was pain.

Kensi repositioned herself next to him on the bed, leaning back against the pillows. They sat this way for a few minutes.

"Every night?" she said finally.

He sighed and leaned back against the headboard, not looking at her. He nodded. The silver lining to this incident was that he hadn't woken up screaming. At least there was that.

She handed him a bottled water off the night stand.

He took a drink, letting the cool liquid fill him with a sense of calm. "Thanks."

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

He shook his head and took another drink before recapping it and tossing it to the floor.

"Okay." She gave his hand a squeeze and moved to get up.

He kept a hold of her hand. "Kensi?" he said.

She stopped. "Yeah?"

"Will you lie here for a little while?" He scooted over to the edge of the bed, making room for her. "I promise not get handsy. I'll keep all my extremities to myself."

She looked at him for a few seconds before nodding.

He lifted the covers up and she crawled under, burrowing into the pillow-top mattress. "But no starfish jokes in the morning," she said.

Deeks held up his fingers. "Scouts' honor."

* * *

Note: I was so excited to release this chapter. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did! The banter between our two favorite agents has been really fun to write.


	9. Chapter 9

The Navy Ball

Chapter 9

* * *

**06:00**

The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon when Deeks awoke; rays of red and orange light bathed the room in a soft glow. As he became more alert, he realized that Kensi had never returned to her own bed during the night, and she was now snuggled into the crick of his shoulder. Her brown hair was splayed out across her pillow and she was turned onto her side, nestled against his body. She looked more peaceful than he had ever seen her. He watched her sleep for a few minutes, trying to still his mind and body so as not to rouse her. It had been a long time since he had woken up with someone next to him and, if he was being honest with himself, it felt good. Although he loved an awake Kensi, a sleeping Kensi was something spectacular too. He studied her skin, her hair, her eyelids—something that he was never allowed to do with 'awake Kensi.' The minutes ticked by in silence.

Deeks soon began to feel a familiar ache in his side from lying in one position. He knew that the ache would slowly turn to a burn, the burn into a knife-like jab if he didn't move off of his bruised ribcage.

There was also the possibility that Kensi would wake up and be less than thrilled about their overnight snuggle session. They had yet to discuss the… _thing_ (damnit!) that lingered between them and she seemed to be in no rush to do so. As much as he wanted to have an honest conversation with her… having it _in bed_ was probably not the ideal location. Bed was synonymous (in his immature mind) with sex, and although the prospect of sex with Kensi Blye was enticing, he wanted more than sex. He wanted everything… if he was being honest with himself.

It was this train of thought that prompted him to slowly slip his knee out from between her legs and roll onto his back, severing the contact between their bodies. He held his breath for a brief moment as Kensi grunted and sleepily rolled onto her other side, burrowing further under the covers. After a few seconds, she was still again.

Deeks quietly moved around the room, pulling out his running clothes and dressing in silence. He grabbed his shoes and bro-sack (okay, fanny pack) and was about to leave when he thought better of it. Picking up a pen off the bedside table, he scribbled a quick note to his partner and set it gently on his side of the bed before leaving the room.

* * *

**07:30**

Kensi awoke to sunlight streaming through the window, causing her to feel too warm under the heavy duvet. Kicking it off, she stretched and rolled over onto her back, letting her eyes adjust to the light. The clock read 07:30. She could vaguely hear the sound of her teammates voices downstairs.

Deciding that it was probably time to get her ass out of bed, she yawned and pushed herself into a sitting position. As she turned to get up, her hand hit a sheet of paper lying on the bed next to her. She realized in that moment that she had fallen asleep with her partner… who had departed without waking her. Irritation crept into her periphery.

As she turned the note over in her hand, she tried to push away the idea that this was a 'dismissal letter.' He wasn't leaving her a '_the sex was great but…'_ note because there was no sex and the two of them weren't dating. Kensi internally shouted at her brain to turn off and opened the sheet of paper, revealing her partner's messy script.

_Fern,_

_Went for a run. Actually, it's been a while since I did any form of exercise, so I'm not sure how much of it will actually resemble running… this note is now longer than I had intended._

_MDeeks_

_P.S. Thank you_

She couldn't help but grin as she read, hearing his voice in every word. Refolding the sheet of paper, she tucked it carefully under the pillow and slid out of bed. Her stomach rumbled as she quickly brushed her teeth and splashed water on her face before pulling on jeans and a t-shirt and leaving the room.

Downstairs, Michelle, Callen, and Nell were sitting around the kitchen table drinking coffee. The kitchen was a warm shade of yellow, potted plants sitting on the windowsill. Kensi wondered who watered them when nobody was staying in the safe house. She couldn't even keep a plant alive at her own house; those poor plants would be doomed if she was responsible for housekeeping at the L.A. safe houses. Deeks often referred to her as a plant hospice worker.

"Morning," she said to her teammates as she grabbed a mug and poured herself a cup of coffee.

"You're usually up with the sun," Callen said, "what gives?"

Kensi shrugged, letting the hot liquid burn her throat on the way down, savoring the feeling. She hopped up on the counter. The 01:00 break in her REM sleep cycle was the obvious answer to that question, but she couldn't divulge that particular pearl of info. "Jet lag," she answered, smiling at Callen.

"Well, better drink your coffee fast," Nell said. "Apparently Hetty has a full day of events planned."

"Where's Sam?" she asked, peering around the corner to see if anyone was in the living room. She assumed her partner actually was out exercising and didn't get sidetracked on the way out the door.

"Running," Michelle said with an eye roll, "with _your_ man."

Kensi faltered. "Deeks?" she set her mug down and laughed (it came out more high pitched than she had intended). "_Deeks_ is not my… man," she said. It sounded unconvincing in her ears.

Michelle waved her hand through the air. "Sorry, partner… man. It's all the same in our house." She pointed at Callen, "I refer to G as my husband's work wife."

Kensi and Nell snorted.

"Why am I the wife?" Callen said, a note of protest in his voice.

"Do you really want me to answer that question?"

Callen was about to respond, but was interrupted by the front door banging open. Kensi could hear Deeks' voice from the foyer.

"Oh my God," she heard him say, "I think I am going to die."

Sam entered the kitchen first, chuckling. Deeks was at his heels, covered with sweat and breathing hard. He was wearing jogging shorts and his fanny pack, his shirt tied around his head like a turban. When he turned to grab water out of the fridge, Kensi saw the intricate web of yellow-green bruising that covered his side, still healing from his complex rib fracture eight weeks ago.

"It's like… one-hundred-and-twenty degrees out there," he said as he collapsed in an empty chair and leaned against the backrest. "I'm pretty sure I am going into heat stroke."

Callen looked at his phone. "It's seventy-four," he said.

Deeks took a long drink of his water. "I'm from California," he argued, "and, I say, it's freaking hot out there."

Kensi laughed, thinking of the note he had left her. _ Something resembling exercise_, she thought.

After recapping his water, Deeks whipped his fanny-pack (bro sack?) around and unzipped it. He pulled out a pastry bag and tossed it to Kensi, who caught it easily.

"Boston cream," he said, adding, "Sorry if it's a little… smashed. There was a thing with a tree branch and a small dog that caused a minor incident…" he waved his hand in the air. "You know what? Forget I mentioned it."

Sam chuckled and clapped Deeks on the shoulder. "This guy made me stop at mile three to pick that up," he said. "Who stops exercising for a _donut_?"

Deeks pointed a finger at Sam, "Someone that knows how the day will go if his partner doesn't have sugar first thing in the morning."

Kensi took a bite of her donut (which was not smashed, thank the Lord). "What does Hetty have planned?" she asked Nell, continuing the previous conversation through Deeks' interruption.

"That is an excellent question, Ms. Blye."

Kensi, mouth full of boston cream, swiveled on the counter toward Hetty's voice. How the operations manager was able to sneak up on them unannounced so frequently was beyond her understanding. "Hi Hetty," she said, wiping cream off her chin and smiling guiltily.

"We are going on a field trip this morning," she said. "To tour the NCIS D.C. office." Hetty turned toward Sam and Deeks. "I suggest you two make yourselves presentable. Car leaves in thirty minutes."

* * *

**07:55**

Deeks let the lukewarm water rush over him, cooling his aching muscles. He was man enough to admit that a five-mile near-sprint with Sam probably wasn't the best way to ease his way back into exercise. The first two miles had been bearable, the adrenalin pushing him forward. The middle one-point-five were okay, but the last few had been killer. No wonder Sam was built like a boulder.

Shutting off the water, he dried off and stepped out of the shower. He pulled out his toothbrush and brushed his teeth quickly, not evening bothering with the floss. As he rolled on deodorant and shook out his wet hair, there was a soft knock at the bathroom door.

He hastily pulled on his jeans before opening the door, not at all surprised to see Kensi on the other side. She was dressed and ready to go, also not shocking. The woman could make herself fit to be seen faster than anyone he'd ever met (himself included).

She stood in the doorframe, holding her toothbrush in one hand and coffee in the other.

"Don't those two cancel each other out?" he asked as she set the coffee mug down on the counter and squeezed toothpaste onto her toothbrush. "You're gonna have… pepperminty coffee breath."

Kensi smirked at him, stuck the toothbrush into her mouth, and started brushing.

Deeks grabbed his shirt off a hook on the back of the bathroom door. As he turned, he noticed Kensi staring at his bruised ribcage. He was grateful that he'd been smart enough to pack button-ups (from his collection of four shirts, as Kensi pointed out), as he was unsure at this particular moment if he could raise his arms above his head sans pain. Pulling his arms through the sleeves, he left the buttons undone.

"If you squint, you can see the Mona Lisa," he said, craning his neck to look at his war wound in the mirror. Truthfully, it looked much better than even a week ago. The bruises had faded to a greenish-yellow; hardly noticeable if you didn't know they were there.

Kensi spit toothpaste into the sink and rinsed her mouth. "I hadn't seen it before," she said as she set her toothbrush down on the counter and turned to face him. She laid her hand on his side and palpated his ribs with her fingers. "Does it still hurt?"

He bit his lip to keep from cringing. Heat from her hand sent tingles up and down his spine. He cleared his throat and shook his head. "Only when I run… five miles at a sprint, apparently." He let out a short chuckle. "Next time Sam offers to let me run with him, use the duress word."

She smiled at him, her thumb still stroking his side. Her hand was warm and the motion was soothing to his aching ribcage. "What's the duress word?" she asked, taking a step forward and looking up at him. She was wearing an expression he had never seen before. Her eyes were wide, jaw relaxed; a combination that made her appear innocent, as if she wanted him to take control, push her backward and kiss her without asking permission.

He cleared his mind, not allowing that thought process to continue. If he made it easy for her every time, they would never get anywhere. "How about… no, stop, don't go with him?" Her body was so close to his now he could smell her shampoo. He wasn't sure what to do with his hands, so he lifted his right and pushed her brown hair behind her shoulder, letting his palm rest on the side of her neck.

She took another small step closer and rested her forehead against his. "That's really duress… words."

_Oh God,_ he thought, _stop, stop stop!_ He ran his other hand down her arm, intertwining their fingers lightly. Deeks felt heat shoot into his groin, but he forced his body to stay still. He was determined not to make the _second_ move. Kensi ran her hand up his side smoothly, letting it rest on his chest. She nuzzled her nose against his.

His breath caught in his throat and he had to stabilize himself against the bathroom counter with the backs of his legs. The contact between their bodies felt explosive, as if every second they had ever spent in one-another's company had led up to this moment. He stayed completely still, letting her have the reigns and wondering if she was feeling as utterly out of control as he was in this moment.

Kensi let go of his hand and lifted it, grabbing a lock of wet hair and moving it out of his face. Her lips were so close now; he could feel her warm (pepperminty coffee) breath against his skin.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. It took every muscle in his entire body to drop his hands from her smoking-hot body and step away from her. The connection between their bodies was severed, but electricity still buzzed around them. He exhaled slowly and started buttoning his shirt.

Kensi ran a hand through her hair and leaned against the counter in a manner that did not look the least bit innocent.

"Yeah?" Deeks called, his voice breaking. He had no idea who was going to come through that door, but hoped to God it wasn't going to be Hetty. She could probably smell the sexual tension from downstairs. He realized that the operations manager had all but given him verbal permission to pursue this, but that was completely different then walking in on it.

The door opened, however, to reveal Sam, freshly showered and ready to go.

Deeks did his best to look nonchalant, as if he hadn't been two seconds away from losing his shit and having his way with his partner on the bathroom counter.

"We're leaving in five," Sam said, holding up his fingers. He looked from Deeks to Kensi and back again, waiting for a response.

Kensi recovered first. "Be right down," she said, smiling at him.

Sam left the door open and disappeared.

Deeks and Kensi stood on opposite ends of the bathroom, staring at one another, breathing hard.

"Oh my God," Kensi said after a minute, raking a hand through her hair with trembling fingers. "We can't do this."

Deeks was caught off guard. "Can't do… what're you talking about?"

She stayed silent, glancing up at the ceiling.

He took a step toward her.

"No, no, no!" she said, holding up a hand and backing up a step. "Ten feet."

"Ten feet… _what_? What are you even talking about?"

"We need to talk about this, and it's obviously not going to happen if we are in close proximity." She backed up another step, moving toward the door slowly, as if he was a wild animal that she was trying to escape… as if _he_ had been the one to start touching _her._

He relented, telling himself that at least Kensi was acknowledging that they needed to have a conversation about this… thing (damnit!).

"Fine," he said with a shrug, "Ten feet."

She nodded. "Ten feet."

He made to move past her, but she stopped him.

"Whoa, whoa!"

"I'm not going to stay in this bathroom until you decide you're ready to leave."

"Fine," she said, pursing her lips, "I'm going." Turning on her heel, she exited the bathroom, picked up her jacket from the bed, and left the room.

* * *

It was that moment, standing in the doorframe of their room, that Sam first realized what was happening between the two junior agents. It wasn't his years of investigative skills, however, that enabled him to see what was going on. It was the familiarity of the situation.

They hadn't leapt apart guiltily or behaved in a manner that suggested they were sleeping together, but when he opened the door, he didn't see Deeks and Kensi standing in front of him; he saw himself and Michelle years ago. Sam knew by looking at them that they had moved from 'just partners' to 'what now?' From the energy that was rolling off of them to the electricity that sizzled invisibly through the air, he gauged that the transition had happened recently.

Had he seen this coming? The short answer was no.

He had never invested much time into watching their interactions before. He wondered if G knew, but quickly dismissed the idea. Kensi and Deeks' behavior toward one another hadn't changed at all, and unless they did something stupid, Callen would probably write any abnormalities off. Sam was able to recognize their body language and expressions only because he had been through it.

He thought of a recent conversation he had with Callen, joking in nature, after Nell had found Kensi strangling her partner with her thighs on a hotel bed.

**Four months prior...**

_They were on the way to the boatshed, Sam maneuvering easily through traffic._

"_You think there's something we should be concerned about?" Callen asked, tapping his fingers on the door._

"_Why're you asking me?" Sam asked. When Callen didn't respond, he turned at looked at his partner, who was staring at him with raised eyebrows. Sam rolled his eyes. "You can't stop that sort of thing, G."_

"_Look, I'm not suggesting that we can," he replied. "I am, however, suggesting that we stop them from doing it at work."_

_Sam made a right hand turn and parallel parked. "You're assuming that there's something to stop." He was skeptical that Kensi and Deeks were doing anything other than their routine flirting. _

"_No, I'm preparing for the worst." He slid out of the car and shut the door, waiting for Sam on the curb._

_Sam grabbed the keys and followed suit. Locking his car doors, he followed his partner across the marina toward the boatshed. "What do you have in mind?" he asked, humoring Callen._

"_Operation Arctic Storm."_

"_Arctic storm?" he said, a sarcastic ring in his voice. _

"_It's got a nice ring to it," Callen replied. "Like… taking a cold shower."_

_Sam chuckled. "Call it whatever you want 'cuz it's never gonna happen. Kensi is too smart for that."_

"_And Deeks?"_

_Sam pulled open to door to the boatshed. "Well… you got me there."_

Wow, had he been wrong.

* * *

**18:00**

The trip to the NCIS D.C. office had been relatively uneventful, save one incident that forced Kensi and Deeks to hide in the men's bathroom to escape being seen by Sarah Woodring. She'd been brought in for questioning, and although Kensi didn't much care if the two of them were identified as agents, Deeks was petrified that Hetty would find out about their unapproved undercover work.

The rest of the day had been spent watching baseball with Sam, Callen, and an uninterested Eric while the ladies were being treated to a SecNav sanctioned "spa day" prior to the Navy Ball. Deeks wondered if the trip also included their operations manager. Somehow, he couldn't envision Hetty participating in that type of pampering.

Now dressed and ready to go, they were watching the end of the Dodgers game and waiting on Nell and Kensi. Callen had broken the seal on a fifth of whiskey, and they were passing it around the room while they waited.

"Hey, this ball will be the perfect opportunity for you and Kensi to break out the tango Hetty made you learn," Sam said to Deeks, taking a pull from the bottle and handing it to him.

Deeks snorted, "It was a waltz," he corrected. "And better watch your mouth, or I'll remind Hetty that you and Callen never completed your Vietnamese Waltz lessons." He took a drink of Callen's whiskey, feeling it burn his throat on the way down and passed it to Michelle, who gave him a skeptical look.

Fifteen minutes later, Kensi came down the stairs slowly, concentrating on hanging an earring in her ear. Her long black dress had a plunging neckline, drawing attention to her toned arms and… other… assets; long dark hair pulled back into a low chignon, earrings sparkling in the light of the living room. Deeks rose from the couch with the others and watched his partner float down the stairs. As he watched her step softly onto the carpeted floor, he thought to himself that she had never looked so beautiful. Deeks loosened his tie a little and crossed the room toward her as the other agents gathered their things and headed toward the door.

"This is less than ten-feet," Kensi whispered into his ear through a smile.

He plucked her wrap out of her hands and draped it over her shoulders carefully, smiling back. He watched as she tightened the fabric around herself. Giving her shoulders a squeeze, he put his hand on the small of her back and led her toward the door. "You look..."

"Just as wonderful standing ten feet away."

"Beautiful, Kensi."

She turned, making eye contact with him.

He stared back, unblinking.

"Thank you," she said.

He moved her forward, holding her elbow as she descended the porch stairs, ensuring she didn't fall.

* * *

Note: Soooo, I have over two-hundred follows and just over one-hundred reviews! You know what that means... if you've followed this and _haven't_yet told me what you think, it's time to put those keys to use and type!

Thank you for all the wonderful feedback. I know you're waiting for that sexy Densi moment, and I would like to assure you that it's coming soon! Hope you enjoyed!


	10. Chapter 10

**The Navy Ball**

**Chapter 10**

* * *

**The Navy-Marine Corps' Ball, Washington D.C.**

The ballroom of the Hilton Hotel was beautiful; white walls, a polished hardwood dance floor, and crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Waiters in black tails were serving lemon water and white wine, bustling from table to table without stopping.

As the NCIS team settled in their seats, Deeks noticed a string quartet setting up in the far corner of the room.

The Secretary of the Navy and, presumably, his wife, were at a table up near the podium. Deeks could just make him out over the crowd of servicemen and women, all dressed in their formalwear.

"They really pull out all the stops for these things," Deeks said, looking around.

Sam smiled and took a drink of his water. "Highlight of the year," he said.

Deeks took off his jacket and hung it on the back of his chair. "You been to one before?"

Sam nodded. "Although, I don't think I've been to one in…." he trailed off and looked to Michelle for an answer.

She rolled her eyes. "Don't look at me. You took your work wife last time."

Sam and Callen exchanged a grin.

"Two-thousand-nine," Callen said, clinking his water glass against his partner's.

"Dodgers versus the Nationals." Sam smiled at the memory.

"I still appreciate you letting me go," Callen said to Michelle.

"Mmhmm," she said with a smile.

"Wait… was this like a man date?" Deeks asked. "Like… a fancy dinner and out of town baseball game?"

"It was not a date," Sam retorted, "It was two guys, hanging out…"

"At a fancy dinner in tuxedos," Deeks finished, "No, I totally get it."

A waiter stopped by the table to take drink orders. Next to him, Kensi silently sipped her water, an amused expression on her face.

"It wasn't a date." Sam looked to his wife for conformation.

Michelle laughed. "It was a date."

"Ha!" Deeks said. "I'm liking your wife more and more."

Sam rolled his eyes and gave Michelle a look. "Really? You givin' him more ammo?"

"I just tell it like it is," she said, patting him on the arm.

The main course was lamb, roasted red potatoes, and fresh green beans garnished with red pepper flakes. After eating off a food truck menu on a daily basis, Deeks felt he was living the dream. They definitely didn't have parties like this at the LAPD.

He recalled the last company Christmas shindig (the only annual event, to his knowledge), where they served freezer-burned hot dogs and boxed mashed potatoes. Captain Danworth got drunk, fell off the bar, and broke his collarbone right before his wife was caught banging a newly hired shield in the men's bathroom. Classy.

When the dinner plates had been cleared and everyone's drinks refreshed, a young blonde woman in a sparkling, ruby-colored ball gown took the podium and began to speak about the Navy and Marine Corps' rich history (her words). Deeks tried to listen for a few minutes, but kept getting distracted by the large sequins on the woman's dress; a lack of interest that was compounded by the fact that her carefully scripted monologue was incredibly boring.

He leaned over toward Kensi. "Her dress…" he said softly.

She raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to complete his keen observation.

"Yeah?" she finally asked.

"Reminds me of _The Wizard of Oz,_" he finished, taking a drink of his beer.

Kensi choked.

Deeks handed her a glass of water. "I think she even said her name is Dorothy."

"She did not," she replied with a smile.

"Do you think she has matching bedazzled shoes?"

"Deeks, stop." Kensi punched him in the shoulder.

"And it is my esteemed honor to present the Secretary of the Navy, Ray Mabus!" Dorothy was saying from the platform.

Deeks clapped along with everyone else, watching as SecNav shook the woman's hand and took the podium.

"Tonight," he began, "We are going to honor a group of people who work behind the scenes. Most of those here have, or still are, operating to keep this nation safe from the front lines. You are a great asset to this country, and the United States of America is indebted to you for your service." He paused. "There are other organizations that work the back lines, however. These are lines that most Americans don't know exist. But they do exist. And although these people work undercover, sometimes, it is important to acknowledge that what they do matters." SecNav looked around the room slowly, finally finding their team, hidden in the crowd. "Director Vance," he said, speaking to Leon, sitting at a table to the right of the podium. "Will you please make your way to the podium?"

Director Vance stood up and straightened his jacket before making his way up the platform steps.

"This Honorary Commendation Medal is being presented to the Naval Criminal Investigative Service' Office of Special Projects, based in Los Angeles, California for the neutralization of the biggest threat to national security on our soil since 2001."

SecNav extended his hand toward the team from across the room. "Not only did this team successfully collaborate with other branches of service, recover nuclear warheads that hadn't been seen in decades, and capture the infamous Isaak Sidorov, they did it without sacrificing any American lives."

The crowd erupted in applause.

"So," he continued as the roar died down, "It is my pleasure to present this award to Director Leon Vance and the OSP team. Could I ask you to please stand, so that we can properly thank you for your service."

Deeks felt a little awkward as he rose with the rest of the group at the table. He had become accustomed to working undercover, hidden beneath a shadow of fake identities. Being here, as the center of attention, was a tad disconcerting.

One by one, the members of the NCIS D.C. office stood, clapping. This prompted others to do the same, and soon, the standing ovation had spread to everyone in the room.

* * *

After the dessert plates were cleared and the keynote speaker had finished addressing the room, Callen pulled the wine bottle out of the ice bucket in the center of the table and passed it around. The other members of the team, including Hetty, filled their glasses.

Callen pushed back his chair and stood, clinking his glass to call attention.

"It's been an intense few months," he started. "But even in the darkest of moments, I never once doubted that we would succeed in finding those nukes and nailing Sidorov." He took a breath and raised his glass. "To our team," he said, "and to always getting the bastards in the end."

"Here, here!" came the replies.

Everyone clinked glasses, savoring the moment.

Callen suddenly realized that although the case had been over for a few months, he hadn't been able to let go. The file had been closed and Sidorov had been taken into custody, but there was still an air of discontent swirling about.

Perhaps it had something to do with Deeks' eight-week absence or Janvier's escape and subsequent disappearance. Perhaps they were all fixated on how badly it could have turned out. Either way, Callen had been skeptic about attending the Navy Ball, but he now wondered if it had been what they needed.

He watched as Sam and Michelle left for the dance floor, Sam smiling as he twirled his wife under his arm and dipped her. She came up laughing, embracing him tightly. Next to him, Kensi and Deeks were chuckling about a beer that had been sent to Deeks by Special Agent McGee (Callen wasn't going to ask). Hetty had taken her wine glass and departed the table to find Director Vance.

Yes, thought Callen, this was exactly what they needed.

A few minutes later, Gibbs joined them, followed soon after by Tony DiNozzo.

"Congrats," Gibbs said, sticking out his hand. "Your team deserves it."

He shook Gibbs' hand. "Thanks, man." He leaned back in his chair. "But, I'd give it all back to never hear Issak Sidorov's name again."

"How about to never have heard his name in the first place?" Deeks suggested. "I could have lived my whole life in blissful ignorance of his existence."

"Someone would have eventually found those hidden nukes," Kensi argued. "If not Sidorov, some other psychopath."

Gibbs nodded and took a sip of his drink. "There're plenty of them out there."

Kensi poured the last few drops of wine from the bottle into her glass and stood. "I'm going to the bar to get a refill. Anyone need anything?"

Callen and Deeks shook their heads, Gibbs raised his full glass (a man of so few words).

She smoothed her dress and started toward the bar.

Callen drummed his fingers against the table, thinking. "I remember the first time I heard the name Isaak Sidorov," he said, turning toward Gibbs. "1993."

Gibbs nodded. "Moscow."

Deeks, who had been staring blankly ahead, tuned back in. "Wait… you had met him before this case?" he asked.

Callen shook his head. "I'd heard of him before the case. Our team was supposed to neutralize a Russian mob boss that had ties with the illegal arms trade," he explained. "Sidorov was an up-and-comer then, just starting to get his feet wet."

"Didn't take him long to move up the ranks," Sam added as he approached the table, Michelle at his heels.

"That was around the same time we realized there was a mole in our operation," Callen said.

Gibbs nodded, "Polorov."

"Was his name what tipped you off?" Deeks asked. When everyone turned to look at him, he added, "You know… 'cuz it sounds… Russian."

Callen raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, come on… Polorov?" Deeks rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine," he stood up and stretched, "I am going to go locate my partner and see if she wants to get her dance on. It'd be unfortunate if Hetty's waltz lessons went completely to waste." He took one last swig of his drink before leaving to find Kensi.

A few minutes later, Callen saw Deeks leading Kensi toward the dance floor, grinning. He could tell by her expression and body language that she was staging a protest. Despite this, she was nonetheless allowing herself to be pulled into the mass of dancing couples.

Callen turned back to Gibbs. "We should've known it was Povolov," he said.

"Would've made the job a lot easier," Gibbs replied.

"And maybe I wouldn't have been stuck in that safe house for two months while you were enjoying the Russian countryside."

"Saving your ass," he added with a smile.

"If that's what you want to call it," Callen quipped back.

* * *

As the music played softly in the background, Kensi found herself relaxing into her partner's arms, allowing him to pull her closer. He had just finished apologizing, unnecessarily, for the incident at the bar. Surprisingly, it had made her feel a little lighter.

As much as she didn't want to admit it, there was a small part of her that questioned Deeks' trustworthiness. Although his track record with women was pretty straight forward, he wasn't one to regularly kiss-and-tell when he truly cared for someone. Over the years, she had taken note of a few speed bumps; blips on the radar that wouldn't have been recognized by others.

There had been Detective Trainer, his LAPD handler that he had (probably) been involved with. Then there was his best friend Ray's wife, Nicole and, of course, the recent incident with Monica (Bonnie to his Clyde). Kensi knew firsthand how difficult it could be to maintain a cover and remain emotionally uninvolved, and she also knew that some were better at this than others. Deeks had accused her, a few months back, of being jealous of Monica. Jealousy was never the issue, however. Monica had been an overt reminder of other women and the undercover assignments they represented.

The small part of her that didn't trust him also wondered how they could possibly make a relationship work while doing this job. It was this doubt that had caused her to pull away from him after the Sidorov case ended and kept her from talking to him about where they were headed.

"I'm sorry too, Deeks," she said quietly.

He pulled back and looked at her, searching her face. "For _what_?"

She sighed and wrapped her arm tighter around his neck. "Not calling… not texting… not asking how you were doing…."

He needed to know that hurting him had never been her intention.

"Not kissing me back."

She froze. There it was.

"You—you almost _died_," she said finally.

* * *

It took him a few minutes to notice what was happening. Callen had been discussing an old undercover mission with Gibbs when he caught them in his peripheral vision. Years of training had taught him to always keep a watchful eye on his teammates, even off-duty. It was this over-developed sixth-sense that sent a quiet alert to his brain. He stopped talking and turned so that he could better see his two junior agents, assessing the situation quickly.

Kensi and Deeks had left for the dance floor a few minutes ago and were now surrounded by fifty other couples in the well-lit ballroom. They were closer than they had been a few minutes ago, Callen noted. Kensi's right arm was draped lazily over her partner's shoulder, fingers softly stroking the back of his neck. Deeks held her left hand with his right and as they turned, Callen was relieved to note that Deeks' other hand was in a satisfactory position on Kensi's lower back. He reminded himself that they were just dancing, which was completely acceptable to do at a Navy Ball. So why did he feel like he was intruding on an intimate moment? He watched them for another minute, trying to pinpoint what was bothering him about the situation. Deeks, for his part, was trailing light circles on Kensi's wrist with his thumb and talking softly into her ear. Callen was too far away to read his lips, but Kensi's body language suggested it wasn't a normal conversation that ended with a Deeks-esque joke. When he stopped talking, Callen saw her pull back slightly and the two made eye contact, freezing on the dance floor.

Callen felt the energy between them shift.

_Shit,_ he thought.

He knew this had been coming, hadn't he? He had watched them over the past few years-bantering and joking, the endless flirting leading nowhere. Even the last few intense months had brought only minute changes, hardly noticeable to an untrained eye. But he had noticed. The pair would suddenly stop talking when he entered the room and Deeks' recent undercover assignment with Monica had seemed to dig at Kensi. Then there was the last case… the one that had landed Deeks in the hospital. He shuddered.

Turning in his chair, he lightly tapped his partner's back.

Sam Hanna, who had been in deep conversation with his wife, Michelle, looked at Callen over his shoulder, eyes raised.

"We have a problem," Callen said simply. He nodded in Kensi and Deeks direction.

Sam followed his gaze. "Shit," he said, echoing his partner's earlier thought. "Where's Hetty?"

The two agents surveyed the room, searching for their operations director.

Callen found her first. She and Director Vance were at the far end of the ballroom, having an animated discussion. "There," he said, pointing.

"Don't point, G!" Sam pulled his arm down. From across the room, Hetty stopped talking, and turned to look at the two agents, a questioning look etched upon her features.

They both waved, smiling innocently.

"How does she do that?" Callen asked after she turned away.

"I don't know, but you can bet it'll take her another few seconds to realize that Kensi and Deeks are about to do the horizontal tango in front of two hundred servicemen," Sam replied.

"And women," Michelle added, leaning across Sam.

"You know you can't stop them," Gibbs said, speaking for the first time in a few minutes. "You, of all people, should know that." He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, an amused expression on his face.

Next to him, Gibbs' senior field agent looked stunned. "Can't stop them?" Tony asked, an incredulous look plastered on his face.

Callen turned and smirked at Gibbs, knowing full well what he was referring to. "But I _can_ stop them from doing it in front of Hetty," he said.

"What does he mean, _you should know_?" Sam asked. "I apparently need to spend more times with Gibbs. It appears that he knows some things that I don't."

Callen rolled his eyes. "We need to instigate operation Arctic Storm, Sam."

Sam nodded solemnly. "You take Hetty, I'll separate the lovebirds." He rose from his chair.

Callen shook his head, "Why do I have to take Hetty?"

Sam was halfway around the table already, headed in the direction of the dance floor. Without looking back, he laughed, "Cuz this was your dumb idea, G."

Callen swallowed the last of his beer and took a deep breath before steeling himself. He felt like he was marching to his death as he crossed the room.

"Something wrong, Mr. Callen?" Hetty asked, a stony expression on her face.

* * *

Deeks lifted a hand to Kensi's face and brushed a whisp of hair out of her eyes. His touch was soft, and she closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the feeling of his palm against her skin.

"I know," he whispered. His eyes were serious, unblinking.

Kensi felt her eyes beginning to water, thinking of his limp form in the hospital bed, breathing tube down his throat, chest tube keeping his lung inflated. She had sat with him for seven days while he had been in a medication-induced coma, waiting for him to open his eyes.

She took a slow breath, fighting back the tears. "And then you were in the ICU and I was…."

"Scared."

She exhaled shakily and nodded, clasping the fingers of his hand tighter and pulling him closer. She thought of her father, Dom, and Jack. "I _can't_ lose you, Deeks," she managed in a whisper.

He closed his eyes and exhaled. "I need you to say something you _really_ mean, Kensi."

She looked into his eyes, knowing exactly what she wanted to say and yet having no idea how to put it into words. "I…"

"Can I cut in?" came Sam Hanna's voice.

Kensi had forgotten that they were in a room, surrounded by people-people that would see their body language and know _exactly_ what was happening. She stepped away from Deeks, every fiber of her being screaming at the sudden separation from him.

"Your timing is impeccable, Sam." Deeks said, not breaking eye contact with her.

She recovered quickly and offered Sam a small smile. "Of course you can," she said. "Unless, of course, you meant you wanted to dance with Deeks." She held out her hand, and allowed herself to be pulled into Sam's arms.

He chuckled, "You're just not my type, Deeks," he replied.

"Too good looking, I would assume," he quipped back before turning and moving away from them.

Kensi watched as he walked away, letting Sam set the pace to the music. They swayed for a few seconds in silence.

"Talk to me, Kensi," he said.

She pursed her lips and shook her head, "Nothing to talk about."

"Really?" he asked, "Cuz from where I just stood, it looked like you and Deeks were about to give everyone in this room something to talk about."

She rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to protest.

"I've been there," Sam said simply, cutting her off. He turned and they both looked across the room toward where Michelle sat, drinking wine. She gave them a little smile.

Kensi closed her mouth. They danced in silence for another few seconds.

"Is this the part where you lecture me on how hard it is?" From the dance floor, she watched as Deeks grabbed a bottle of wine off the table and disappeared between the double doors leading out of the ballroom.

Sam shook his head. "Nope."

The music slowed and the song ended, the musicians adjusting their instruments and turning pages of their music sheets. Sam and Kensi stepped apart.

She started to turn away when Sam put his hand on her shoulder to stop her.

"Relationships are hard," he said. "But Michelle and I have survived because of where we began." Sam looked at his wife again, shrugging. "Being partnered with my wife… was the best thing that ever happened to me."

Kensi stood, unmoving, on the dance floor as Sam's words hit her square in the chest. She watched as he walked back to Michelle, kissing her on the top of the head when he reached the table.

The beat picked up suddenly and people began dancing around her. Taking a few steps forward, willing her brain to clear, she stepped back onto the carpeted floor and moved toward the rest of the group.

As terrified as taking this leap was, she realized that she could no longer deny that there was something between them. It had started as a feeling that she couldn't even admit to herself. Their partnership was easy; he complemented her in every way. She had rigid adherence to protocol and he had raw talent. She was serious, him… not so much. She was fire, he was water.

As she stood a few feet away from her teammates (minus Deeks), she realized that the two of them had unknowingly moved beyond just being partners. Maybe someday, when she was far removed from this moment, she would be able to see exactly when this had transpired.

All Kensi knew now was that she needed him. She needed him like oxygen.

At the moment, Eric and Nell shimmied by her, drinks in their hands.

"Oh, Kensi?" Eric said as he was towed toward the dance floor by Nell, "Deeks said to tell you he went home."

She nodded, making a decision right then.

Kensi moved swiftly, grabbing her pashmina off the chair and heading toward the exit without making eye contact with anyone else. It only took her a few seconds to weave her way through the crowd to reach the double doors. The doorman tipped his hat and opened the door for her, the cool breeze kissed her cheeks as she stepped outside.

Looking around, she quickly realized that it would be impossible to hail a cab at this hour and pointless to have the doorman call for the car. Hitching her dress up around her ankles, she started jogging toward the safe house.

With the streetlights as her guide, Kensi ran down the sidewalk, her heels clicking against the hard pavement. She was thankful that the local homeowners kept their hedges and trees so tidy, as it made running in stilettos and a ball gown much easier.

As she rounded a corner a few doors from the safe house, she caught sight of him, walking twenty-or-so yards ahead of her, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

She stopped, breathing hard. In retrospect, she would have eventually caught up with him whether she walked or ran—the latter would have saved her hair and makeup and decreased the chance of breaking an ankle in a trip-and-fall incident.

_Live and learn,_ she thought.

"Deeks!" she called out. A sweaty, heaving mess, she stood panting on the sidewalk as he turned around. Her hair had escaped the carefully crafted chignon, and sweat beads covered her brow, but he looked at her as if she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid eyes on.

Without giving her next move a second thought, she moved toward him without a word.

"Do you think that these constant interruptions by our coworkers is a sign that…"

She didn't give him the opportunity to finish speaking. In the next second her lips crashed against his, her hands on either side of his face. She kissed him with an urgency that she had never felt before; feeling a rush of built up emotion leave her body.

Deeks, momentarily startled, recovered quickly. His snaked his left hand around her neck, curling his fingers into her hair; right hand pulling her closer by the small of her back. She allowed herself to melt into him, closing the distance between their bodies.

His lips were softer then she remembered. She breathed in the rustic scent of his cologne and ran her hand softly across his face and into his soft blonde curls. A small gasp escaped his lips and she used the opportunity to deepen the kiss, before lightly nipping his bottom lip and pulling back.

They stood on the sidewalk in silence for a few seconds, still wrapped in one another's arms, eyes locked, breathing together.

Kensi studied his face, his eyes, his nose, his swollen lips. She rubbed her thumb across his jawline lightly, feeling the familiar roughness.

"I don't…" she started. This was the part that she was not so good at: the honest conversation. But she knew that if they were going to have a chance at a real relationship, they had to improve their communication skills. "I don't know how this is going to work, I just know that we need to try."

He took a step back and leaned against a lamppost. "Try…."

She sighed, he wasn't going to go easy on her. "Having a…"

"If you say the word 'thing,' I swear to God I'll end it right here."

She laughed and stepped toward him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "A relationship."

There it was.

She had finally named it. They were starting a relationship.

Deeks smiled and leaned forward, brushing his lips across her forehead. "Okay," he said softly.

Kensi stepped back and took his hand, intertwining their fingers. "Now can we go home? I just ran three blocks in heels and my feet are numb."

He chuckled, nodding.

They started walking, hand-in-hand, toward the safe house. The neighborhood was quiet, the trees absorbing the sounds of the surrounding city.

Deeks pushed the gate open for her. "So…."

She turned and recognized the look on his face immediately. "Can't we just appreciate this moment in silence, Deeks?"

He shot her a sly smile. "You gonna tell your mom?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Because having a boyfriend is the kind of thing moms like to know." He walked backward up the steps, grinning at her.

"Are you going to tell your mom?" she asked, shaking her head.

"Not applicable," he answered, "I don't talk to my mom." He unlocked the door and pushed it open. "What about my name?"

She entered the house and kicked her shoes off. "What _about_ your name, Deeks?"

"Are you going to start calling me Marty?"

She snorted. "No."

"What about Martin?"

She started up the stairs. "Nobody calls you Martin."

"Maybe I'll start calling you Blye… we can be Deeks and Blye."

"Really?! _Maybe_ you should stop talking before I start to rethink this whole relationship thing," she called from upstairs.

* * *

Sometime later, Callen unlocked the front door to the safe house and entered the foyer, Sam and Michelle following him inside. Loosening his tie, he pulled it over his head and tossed his jacket over the banister. From the hallway, he heard the sound of Kensi's laughter from the living room. He and Sam exchanged a look and peered around the corner.

They were sitting on opposite ends of the couch, the bottle of wine from the ball perched between them; Deeks had Kensi's feet in his hands, massaging them lightly and Kensi was pulling bobby pins out of her hair and leaving them in a pile on the coffee table. They looked completely comfortable in one another's presence, no trace of the intensity from earlier.

"Her name was _not _Dorothy and she _so_ did not say that to you." Kensi said before throwing a bobby pin at her partner, hitting him square in the nose.

"No, I swear to God," he said with a laugh. "I told her that I've never been much of a traveler and she said _Well, there's no place like home_." He stopped rubbing her feet for a second to take a drink from the wine bottle, noticing Sam and Callen for the first time. He waved and passed Kensi the bottle.

Kensi took a swig. "Hey, how was the rest of the ball?" she asked.

Callen wondered what had transpired between the two junior agents after they left. Knowing Deeks and Kensi as well as he did, they either glossed over the issue, avoiding it completely, or finally had the conversation about what it all means.

"We left when Hetty mentioned the Vietnamese Waltz," Sam answered, shaking his head.

"You know she was talking to Nell and Eric, right?" Callen asked.

"Only a matter of time until she moved onto us," Sam said. "And I like you, but there's no way in hell I'm dancin' with you, G."

Callen chuckled and collapsed in an armchair, accepting the bottle of wine that Kensi handed him. He took a drink and corked it, tossing it to Sam, who caught it easily.

"To SecNav," Sam said, holding the bottle aloft.

"And the last vacation we'll have for a long time," Callen added.

"We should totally make this an annual thing, don't you think?" Deeks asked. "Or biannual, even… a mandatory biannual vacation. I could win a government award every year for the rest of my life. What about you guys?"

Sam and Callen shook their heads.

Sam tossed the bottle of wine back at Deeks and stood. "I'll let Sidorov know," he said, "Maybe he'll make a yearly escape from prison so that you can recapture him."

Deeks grimaced. "Maybe the Navy can just give us an annual 'the time we recovered the nukes and saved humanity' anniversary vacation."

Sam rolled his eyes and left the room, Callen close behind.

"Guys?" he heard Deeks say. "How is that not an awesome idea? Seriousl—ouch! Kens—owww."

Callen started up the stairs, still listening to Deeks running commentary.

"I can't rub your feet if you're _kicking me_, Pumpkin Butter."

Yup, everything was back to normal. As he turned down the hallway toward the room he and Eric were sharing, he wondered again if something had happened between Kensi and Deeks. Hetty was positive that nothing would alter the team dynamics, but he couldn't help but fear for the wellbeing of his team. If he so much as sensed a difference in their behavior over the next few weeks, he would separate them. Although he trusted his operations manager, it was his responsibility to ensure mission security and team safety. If Kensi and Deeks were starting a relationship, they needed to tread carefully.

Very carefully.

* * *

**Note:** Thank you for all the beautiful reviews and supportive words, it truly makes all the difference. I hope you have enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing! Although this was originally supposed to be ten chapters, I am considering adding an epilogue... we'll see how it goes.


	11. Epilogue

The Navy Ball

Epilogue

Note: This chapter is rated '**M**' for 'magnificent.' Please take note and shield your eyes if necessary. I hope you enjoyed this summertime romp with our favorite duo as much as I did. Only a few more weeks until the season premiere!

* * *

**Los Angeles, CA**

**One year later…**

Kensi had Petty Officer Jane Rankle in her sights again. Ascending a set of concrete steps to the left of the building two at a time, she tried to determine which way the woman was going to turn by the slant of her body.

Left.

"Callen, she's heading toward Lakeshore Drive," she called, huffing as she sprinted around the corner and leapt gracefully over a dividing wall.

"Got it," came his response.

She wasn't sure how this simple pick-up had gone so wrong. Rankle wasn't even the suspect; in fact, she wasn't anything to their victim (or so they thought) except a nearby neighbor.

Kensi sprinted onto a busy sidewalk just in time to see Rankle enter a nearby park across the street. Holding her hand in the air like she was hailing a cab, she carefully moved through three lanes of traffic and hit the grass on the other side running. With a straight shot across the expanse of the park, she pumped her legs, quickly closing the distance between herself and the other woman.

"STOP!" she yelled.

Putting all her weight on her right leg, she bent her knee and threw her body forward, catching Petty Officer Rankle at the midsection. The two women fell, crashing to the ground. Kensi grunted as her shoulder hit the grass.

Using her arms, Rankle started to push herself over in an attempt to free her lower body out of Kensi's grip.

"Don't even try it," came the voice of Callen.

Kensi looked up to see her partner, barely out of breath, pointing his gun at the Petty Officer.

"Nice of you to join us," Kensi said. She rolled off of Rankle and pulled out a zip tie to secure the woman's hands.

Callen looked at his watch and hoisted their suspect to her feet by the elbow. "Could've let LAPD do the dirty work," he replied, "We're handing her over for processing anyway."

Kensi glanced at her own watch. It read 16:30. "Damn," she said. "We're going to be late."

Callen opened the door to an LAPD squad car and assisted Rankle into the backseat. After a brief conversation with the officer, he turned back toward Kensi. "Late isn't an option," he said. "Michelle will have my head."

Turning, they started to jog toward the car.

For the past two months (eight weeks, four days by Kensi's math), Sam and Deeks had been on an undercover assignment in Sudan. What started as a simple locate and capture quickly evolved into something more complicated, prolonging their stay. Kensi and Callen had been monitoring terrorist cell activity as best they could from the home front, sending any new leads to their comrades.

Two days ago, Sam and Deeks had finally tracked the rogue operative to an underground facility in Kassala. When they breached the building, however, they discovered he had been recently executed. A long drive, and an even longer flight later, the two agents were on their way home.

Callen briefly checked his mirrors before pulling out into Los Angeles traffic. The airport was approximately a twenty-minute drive (give or take two hours).

Kensi buckled her seatbelt and flipped open her phone, sending a quick message to Eric about Petty Officer Rankle. Butterflies flapped madly in her stomach as they merged onto the interstate. It had been three weeks since she'd spoken with Deeks on the phone and five weeks since she'd seen his fuzzy image on a computer screen. He had managed to send a quick text message from a computer café near the airport yesterday evening.

_Alive and well. 1, 4, 3._

The numbers were code for 'I love you.'

She drummed her fingertips against her leg and adjusted her seat so she could stretch out her legs. Eight weeks, four days was a long time to go without seeing someone you're used to seeing every day… and every night.

Kensi bit her lip as her mind wandered to the last night they had spent together. Deeks had (appropriately) titled the evening 'Taco Tuesday,' and Kensi had eaten her weight in homemade guacamole and tortilla chips. After dinner, they had watched the sunset from Deeks' small patio and ended up making furious love on his outdoor chaise lounge, taking full advantage of the glorious August warmth. The next morning, Kensi had counted eight bite marks and two bruises where her knees had repeatedly knocked against the cool metal of the outdoor furniture. Even a full year after they had begun dating, she could still feel the low hum of electricity whenever he touched her.

Callen's voice suddenly broke through her thoughts.

"Sorry, what?" she said.

Callen rolled his eyes. "You seem suddenly preoccupied," he commented.

Kensi turned to him and smiled. "Just thinking about how good tacos sound," she replied. This was not too far from the truth.

"We just had lunch," he said with a chuckle.

"Says the guy who just _watched_ me run a mile in heels," she argued. "After that workout, I think I deserve lunch part two."

"So, your spacey grin has _nothing_ to do with who we're picking up in…" he looked at his watch, "fifteen minutes."

"Deeks?" Kensi let out an innocent laugh. "Of course I'm glad he's coming back, he's my partner." She said this as if it were the obvious answer.

Callen raised his eyebrows at her expectantly.

"Oh come on!" Kensi protested. She knew what he was implying, but wasn't going to bite. "You're happy Sam is coming back too. No more dealing with me in the morning… or my Twinkie withdrawals…."

Callen switched lanes, silent for a few seconds. "I'm just saying you don't have to hide it," he said, "that's all."

_He's really going there,_ she thought, studying her nails with sudden interest. "We have rules," she said finally.

A year prior, when the relationship between herself and Deeks began, they came up with standard operating procedures. Number one was: no canoodling during work hours. Sticking to this was easy because the caseload at NCIS was so heavy; there was no time for fooling around on the job. This rule had been expanded, however, to include any work-related functions as well (holiday parties, after-work beers, and all other NCIS-related events). The last thing Kensi wanted was to make any of her coworkers uncomfortable.

"Look, I'm not suggesting you throw a towel down on Hetty's desk and…."

"Callen, I swear to God, if you finish that sentence…."

He looked over at her, briefly making eye contact before turning back toward the road. "My point is, we're just two people driving to the airport to pick up our family."

Kensi knew he meant it. She spent almost every holiday with her NCIS coworkers; they knew all her darkest secrets and they supported and challenged her on a daily basis. They were her second family. But was she ready to allow them to see through the well-managed charade that she and Deeks had carefully concocted?

The last person she had told had been her mother, and that wasn't even by choice.

* * *

_Ten months prior…._

_They were in Kensi's apartment, Deeks diligently working on preparing dinner. Kensi leaned against the counter, swirling her wine and watching him stir his self-proclaimed 'world famous pasta sauce.' He was standing barefoot in her small kitchen, wearing old jeans and a white v-neck, but she swore he had never looked hotter. The late September heat made his blonde hair wave softly around his neck, and Kensi yearned to grab a hold of it and yank his body toward hers…._

_They had been dating for two months and still hadn't slept together. Other than a few serious make-out sessions, they had remained (mostly) clothed thus far. This decision was purposeful and (mostly) mutual, as they were both nervous about the implications to their partnership. She had needed some time to grow accustomed to the new Kensi and Deeks, and was grateful that he had agreed to procede slowly._

_That being said, Kensi suddenly decided, that 'taking it slow' was probably the worst idea ever. What had started out as a noble attempt to test the relationship waters had turned into her, standing in her kitchen, drooling over Marty Deeks like a feral animal._

"_This is more action then your kitchen has seen… ever."_

_She caught herself staring absently at the way his butt perfectly filled out his jeans._

"_Will you hand me the oregano?" _

_Kensi watched his tone arms stir the sauce carefully…. _

"_Kensi?"_

"_Huh?" Her eyes guiltily flicked up to meet his. _

_Deeks stopped stirring and turned to look at her. "I was referring to action of the cooking sort… not of the… you know." He paused, cocking his head. "Why are you looking at me like that?"_

_Later, she would claim that gravity momentarily shifted and she was propelled toward him without any control over the situation (he didn't believe this). Crossing the room in a few steps, her lips crashed against his, her fingers raking through his hair. She kissed him feverishly; her brain no longer was able to deny the need she felt, and her body happily responded._

_He mumbled something unintelligible. _

"_Hmm?" she said as she broke free of his mouth and started trailing light kisses along his rough jawbone._

"_The sauce is gonna burn," he said breathlessly as she worked her way to his earlobe. "Not that I'm complaining about ruining dinner… although it was gonna be… pretty damn spectacular." He ran his hands along her collarbone and turned his head, allowing her full access to his ear._

_She stopped momentarily and flicked the stovetop off with one hand. "We'll order takeout." She pulled his t-shirt off in one smooth movement and pushed him backward against the pantry door with a thump. The sight of his bare, muscular chest was enough to make heat shoot into her… nether regions. Running her tongue down his throat, she paused to suck the flesh above his pulse point._

"_Kens?"_

"_Mmm," she nipped lightly at his collarbone before moving to his lips again, wondering if he was going to continue talking through this _entire_ process. Probably, she decided._

_He ran a hand through her hair and pulled back slightly. "What happened to 'taking it slow?'" he asked, his voice soft. _

_She ran her hands over his chest and down his biceps. "I can't wait anymore, Deeks," she said. "I need you."_

_He kissed her softly, a hand on either side of her face. "Well, we're going to take _this_ slow, then." He placed one hand under her legs and the other behind her back, lifting her gently off her feet. _

_She hadn't given much thought to what _kind _of sex they would have and was mildly surprised that he seemed to have. As she wrapped her arms around his neck and allowed him to carry her toward the bedroom, she wondered if she should have given it thought. Sex, for her, was usually wild and quick; her life didn't allow for much else. This,__ she realized,_ was going to be different. How many times had she fantasized about sex with Marty Deeks (admittedly, too many to count)? Had she never embraced the possibility that he would take the lead?

_They both laughed as he tripped over a pile of clothes, two books, and a box before making it to the bed. Setting her down on the soft mattress, he kissed her deeply before running his hands down her shirt, undoing the buttons one by one._

_She exhaled as he lightly kissed her stomach, her breasts, and her neck before moving back to her lips. As he settled himself on top of her, she felt his excitement through his jeans. His body was familiar; she ran her fingertips over the gunshot scars of his chest, felt the roughness of his chin against her stomach, and watched the muscles of his arms twitch as they absorbed the weight of his lean body. _

_They made love softly, working slowly to familiarize themselves with the places they'd never been. Kensi allowed him to set the pace and easily relaxed into the rhythm. As he moved above her, she ran her hands along his back and shoulders and thought of all the times in the past few months she'd dreamt of this moment. When she was at her breaking point, he let go and they climaxed together._

_An hour later, they were still lying naked on the bed, wrapped around one another, when there was a knock on the door._

"_You expecting someone?" Deeks asked. "I swear to God, Kens, if you ordered take-out without even trying my spaghetti, this relationship is so over."_

"_That must be my _other_ lover," she laughed, rolling out of bed and searching for her clothes. Finding a (clean?) shirt and her jeans, she left the bedroom and padded toward the door. Pulling the curtain back a smidge, she saw her mother standing under the patio light holding a large box. _

_Kensi swore under her breath and frantically tried to smooth her hair before opening the door. "Hey, mom," she said with a smile that she hoped said, 'I wasn't just engaged in a serious romp-in-the-sack with my partner.'_

_Julia smiled and adjusted the box in her hands. "Hi honey," she said. "I found this box in the attic and thought I'd stop over and drop it off. It has your name on it, but I didn't look inside." She handed it to Kensi, who had no choice but to take it and allow her mom to enter the apartment. _

_Setting the box on the table, she thanked her mother and tried to think of a quick excuse to get her to leave. Quarantine? Not believable. Just on my way out? Looking like this?!_

"_Oh, hello Marty."_

_Kensi grimaced and turned toward the hallway where her mother was looking, a surprised expression on her face._

_Deeks ran a hand through his disheveled hair and cleared his throat. "Hi Mrs. Feldman," he said. Everything about his posture, his face, and his wrinkled clothing screamed 'I was just banging your daughter.'_

_Her mother cleared her throat awkwardly. "I interrupted something," she said. "Sorry to have stopped by unannounced." _

"_Mom, this so isn't what it looks like," Kensi said._

_Her mom raised her eyebrows._

_Kensi sighed, defeated. "Okay… maybe it is what it looks like."_

_Julia adjusted the strap of her purse over her shoulder. "I guess this explains why you never mention dating anyone."_

"_Oh… no, mom," Kensi said, backtracking, "It's not that I don't want to talk to you about it, it's just that…"_

_Julia reached the door, "I understand, Kensi," she replied, "I was young once."_

"_Mrs. Feldman, I'm in love with your daughter." Deeks voice broke through the awkward conversation._

_Both women stopped and turned to look at him. He was staring back at Kensi, eyes unblinking, face serious._

_Julia looked at Deeks, then back at Kensi. "So this isn't just…"_

"_No." Deeks answered. He moved toward Kensi and wrapped an arm around her waist._

"_Well," Julia said after a minute, "I'll let you two be." With a smile that said, 'I expect you'll tell me everything later,' she left the apartment._

* * *

As they parked the car at the airport, Kensi looked at her watch.

"They'll be landing any second," she said.

She and Callen jogged toward the main entrance, flashing their badges at the security desk. Stopping briefly to check the tracking board, they quickly made their way to Gate A-4. The airport staff allowed them to pass through and wait on the tarmac as the small plane rolled toward the gate.

Kensi felt her heart flutter as it came to a stop and the ground crew worked to attach the steps to the side of the aircraft. She tried to calm her nerves, but every muscle in her body twitched as she watched the passengers depart. For such a small airplane, there seemed to be a never-ending stream of people exiting.

After what seemed like an eternity, Sam and Deeks appeared in the doorway.

Kensi's breath hitched when she saw him. From a distance, Deeks looked like a completely different person. His hair was longer, he had a full beard, and he was tanner than she had ever seen him. She shielded her eyes from the sun and watched as he and Sam carefully made their way down the stairs and onto the tarmac.

The instant his feet hit the ground, she couldn't stand it any longer. It had been eight weeks, four days since she had touched him, and this was entirely unacceptable. She started toward him at a brisk pace, quickly picking up speed until she was sprinting haphazardly across the tarmac. In his face, she saw the moment he glimpsed her hurtling toward him at an irrational speed. Deeks smiled, dropped his duffel bag, and braced himself for impact. Kensi finally reached him and leapt into his arms, wrapping her legs around his hips and kissing him hard on the lips. He grunted as her full weight hit him, but adjusted easily and enveloped her in a strong hug, kissing her back with fervor.

Beside them, Sam chuckled and moved toward his own partner at a much slower pace. Kensi heard him make a joke to Callen about 'nobody being that happy to see me.'

After a few seconds, she pulled back and rubbed her thumb along Deeks' rough chin, feeling the hair bristle against her fingertips. She untangled her legs from his back and let her body slide down his, her feet once again on the ground. "I missed you," she said softly.

He smiled and kissed her forehead. "You have no idea." Picking his bag up and wrapping an arm around her shoulders, they walked toward the waiting car. "Think they're gonna let us live that one down?" he asked, nodding at Sam and Callen.

"Nope."

Deeks sighed. "You wanna see a picture of me on a camel?"

"Nope."

* * *

_fin_


End file.
